








COPYWGHT DEPOSm 









BREAKING A BIRD DOG 






























4 


/ 













/ 



The Author and Smada Byrd 

Though a little ragged here from so much work, this bitch, as 
that well-knozvn authority, A. F. Hochwalt, has said, “Would 
be hard to beat, even on the bench, before a practical judge.” 
Mr. Lytle, however, believes that too many owners of the Irish¬ 
men have been swept away by their show possibilities. What 
we need to-day is Irish dogs that can and will work in the field — 
and here is a sample of a real one that does 





BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

A TREATISE ON TRAINING 

BY 

^HORACE LYTLE 



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

NEW YORK :: 1924 :: LONDON 



ST43I 

U 



COPYRIGHT, 1924 , BY 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


\ 


Copyright, 1923, by Horace Lytle 

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMERICA 



OCT -4 "24 

©C1A808164 



TO THE MEMORY 


of the old Dayton Pointer Club—and to all those, 
whether within its membership or without, who helped 
to bring distinguished honor to the Gem City of Ohio 
and make it, as it was, in the (f good old days ” a mecca 
for the best that could be found anywhere in bird dogs, 
and representative of the highest possible ideals for the 
betterment of these noble creatures as well as conducive 
to ennobling influences—this little book is apprecia¬ 
tively dedicated by the author who has drawn much in¬ 
spiration from these splendid examples of the past. 

H.L. 










TO A DOG 

The curate thinks you have no soul; 

But you, 

Dear friend, whose solemn self-control, 

In our four-square familiar pew, 

Was pattern to my youth—whose bark 
Called me in Summer dawns to rove— 

Have you gone down into the dark 

Where none is welcome—none may love ? 

I will not think those good brown eyes 

Have spent their light of truth so soon; 

But in some canine paradise 

Your wraith, I know, rebukes the moon, 

And quarters every plain and hill, 

Seeking his master ... As for me, 

This prayer at least the gods fulfill: 

That when I pass the flood and see 
Old Charon by the Stygian coast 

Take toll of all the shades who land, 

Your little, faithful barking ghost 

May leap to lick my phantom hand. 

— St. John Lucas 



















ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 


I T would not be seemly to permit these 
pages to be published without making 
grateful and public acknowledgment of the 
helpful suggestions, advice, criticisms and 
encouragement that have been received from 
certain well-known authorities for whose 
opinions I have the utmost respect in any 
matter pertaining to dogs. Foremost among 
these are Nicholas Daniel, Harvey J. King, 
A. F. Hochwalt and Ray Vance, all of Day- 
ton, Ohio; Mr. G. H. Macdougall, of Spo¬ 
kane, Washington; and Mr. R. J. McCullagh, 
of Newton Falls, Ohio. To one and all of 
these men I take this means of attempting to 
express, at least in some slight measure, the 
appreciation that I so deeply feel. 









PREFACE 


N O book which deals with bird dogs, and 
the methods of training and develop¬ 
ing them, will ever meet unqualified approval 
in all quarters. But I do believe that my book 
has sufficient merit to make it worthy of pub¬ 
lication. It has been read and approved by 
enough persons whose experience and judg¬ 
ment I trust to give me confidence in its fun¬ 
damentals ; and the hundreds of letters which 
have flowed in to me during the past year 
from those who have read and claim to have 
enjoyed it would seem to indicate that it has 
filled its place fairly well in the hearts of 
those who love good bird dogs in the way 
they deserve to be loved. But over and be¬ 
yond all this—even above the kindly com¬ 
ment of such unquestioned authorities as A1 
Hochwalt and Nick Daniel—is the fact of 
Smada Byrd's own record which speaks for 
itself. I may never start her again in a Field 
Trial, but she has started once and made a 

xi 


Xll 


PREFACE 


name for herself by her splendid perform¬ 
ance. This was on March 8, 1924, in the 
trials of The Miami Valley Amateur Field 
Trial Association, when she was placed over 
several winners in important open trials, and 
won for me two trophies which I shall always 
prize most highly. Several of the dogs 
against which she competed were old cam¬ 
paigners, yet the work of my red setter was 
so decisive that she could not be overlooked. 
The only comment of the judges was that she 
“handled almost too well for field trial stand¬ 
ards of judgment.” I feel that there could 
not be a higher tribute written for my meth¬ 
ods of training than my Irish Setter wrote 
herself into the records of bird dogs by her 
performance on that day, for no one else has 
ever had a hand in her training and the only 
basis upon which her development has been 
founded will be found outlined in the follow¬ 
ing pages. If actions do speak louder than 
words, then Smada Byrd herself has spoken 
all that need be said about the soundness of 
my system. 


CHAPTER 

CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I. 

First Days in the Field . . 

I 

II. 

Getting on Game .... 

19 

III. 

Gun-Shyness and Retrieving 

31 

IV. 

More about Gun-Shyness 



and Retrieving . . . 

40 

V. 

Hunting Quail and Pheas¬ 



ants . 

57 

VI. 

A Successful Pheasant 



Hunt. 

68 

VII. 

Wonderful Work .... 

80 

VIII. 

Steadying to Shot and Wing 

88 

IX. 

A Little Canine Psychology 

98 

X. 

Further Facts and Anec¬ 



dotes . 

107 

XI. 

Finishing Touches . . . 

120 

XII. 

Things to Beware Of . 

140 

XIII. 

“Song Birds” and the Farmer 

149 










ILLUSTRATIONS 

The Author and Smada Byrd Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

The Big, Upstanding Gordon Setter to 
the Left, splashed with white, is 
Old Frank.16 

Laverstoke Powder-Horn .... 36 

Mr. McCullagh is an Ardent Advocate 

of Force Retrieving .... 36 

“Old Ned,” Registered as Grayling's 

Arnaud, F. D. S. B., 39951 ... 58 

Smada Byrd and the Old-fashioned 

Rail Fence.74 

Smada Byrd—Ever Faithful ... 86 

Instructor and Pupil {First Lesson) . 98 

Instructor and Pupil {Later Lessons) . 98 

Lytle's Hoosier Spot Pointing a Single 132 

In Black and White.136 

Two Setter Puppies Pointing at an 
Early Age. 

Smada Byrd and Hoosier Spot 


136 



1 











INTRODUCTION 


1 AM beginning to believe that the success 
or failure of this book must somehow 
depend upon this Introduction. Certainly 
that is true if labor is any basis for judgment. 
This is, I think, the tenth time I have written 
the Introduction —and as I type these lines I 
am not sure yet that I am saying just what I 
want to say in exactly the way I want to 
say it. 

I started out by writing my Introduction 
first. Then after almost each new chapter I 
would go back and rewrite this infernal 
Introduction —and here I am at it again, after 
the balance of the book is all finished and 
nearly ready for the press. 

Yet all this effort is not because I think the 
Introduction is so important in itself—but be¬ 
cause I believe it is of utmost importance that 
I get on the proper basis with my readers 
right at the start and have you understand 
just what I am striving for and hoping to 
accomplish in the following pages. If you 

xvii 


xviii INTRODUCTION 

do not expect too much you are less apt to be 
disappointed. 

This book is not intended as the last word 
in training—but it does tell the story pretty 
thoroughly of how I broke my Irish setter, 
Smada Byrd, and points the way, I hope, for 
others to follow, basing their methods upon 
individual requirements as they develop and 
under general theories which I advance and 
believe are fundamentally sound. I am a 
great advocate of natural processes. 

Thus the subject of breaking a bird dog is 
approached and handled in this book from a 
different angle and on a different basis from 
any similar book on the market. Otherwise 
it would have no excuse for being written. 
In that it is not merely a collection of ab¬ 
stract theories—but a running report of 
actual lessons and gradual progress—this 
book is undoubtedly unique among works of 
its kind. In reality it is merely a bird dog 
biography, with the story confined to the 
period of Smada Byrd’s training and early 
development. Yet long practice has proved 
that the theories are fundamentally sound, 
and that they lose nothing from the lack of a 
more technical treatment. 


INTRODUCTION 


xix 


There is sometimes a wide difference be¬ 
tween sportsmen who use bird dogs in the 
field. One man may enjoy dogs; the other 
loves them. The former may derive sufficient 
pleasure from dogs that have been broken 
for him; the latter would never be quite so 
satisfied as with a dog that he has developed 
himself from a wee pup to a perfectly finished 
shooting dog. You may form your own 
conclusions as to which of the two reaps the 
richest reward. 

If you do not love dogs with all your heart 
and soul—if you do not believe in them and 
trust them fundamentally—if you do not 
understand them and have faith and sympathy 
in your soul for the splendid creatures—and 
if you do not have a world of patience —then 
do not attempt to break a bird dog. You have 
no right to—and you won’t succeed. 

But for the fellow who feels the fields call¬ 
ing and whose heart is right—there is no 
richer joy, no keener pleasure, no more inter¬ 
esting study, no greater fun, no healthier 
sport than breaking your own bird dog to 
become your companion and your helper in 
the field. 


The Author 



















BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


CHAPTER I 


FIRST DAYS IN THE FIELD 


O N a certain well-remembered day in 
February of 1922 the writer came 
into possession of a little Red 
Setter which is to become the subject around 
which the chief messages in this book re¬ 
volve. She was at that time just past six 
months old and in her veins flows Irish Setter 
Blood as pure as can be found anywhere that 
Bird Dogs are bred. This puppy was regis¬ 
tered as Smada Byrd and it wasn’t long be¬ 
fore she had found her way into all hearts in 
my home. She was an interesting little 
thing, full of fun and frolic, and I venture to 
predict that but seldom has any dog ever 
merited or achieved more love than we gave 
her. 

But Smada Byrd was not to be an orna¬ 
ment—she was to be a field dog, unless my 


2 


BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


plans should miscarry, and that meant that 
she had her work to do and must learn her 
lessons in preparation. 

Then one day bad news came suddenly to 
cause us grief—little Byrd had been exposed 
to distemper and would surely come down 
with it. There followed the trying siege of 
bringing her through, the effort ultimately 
being crowned with success, and she became 
herself again. It required several months for 
her to regain her strength and health, the 
process being helped materially by plenty of 
fresh air and sunshine. Hours at a time she 
spent just playing with my little boy, romp¬ 
ing in the fields about my home. 

Finally, one day—so swiftly does time fly 
—it came to me almost as a shock that the 
Illinois quail season was not far off; and I 
had been invited to join a party there. It 
was, in fact, well into September and not a 
thing had been done toward Byrd’s train¬ 
ing. Less than sixty days remained in which 
to bring the little dog to a point where she 
would be of some real service in the field. 
And still I hesitated to send her away to a 
trainer. I simply couldn’t seem to bring my- 


FIRST DAYS IN THE FIELD 3 

self to it—so surely had the puppy by that 
time become almost one of the family that 
we just felt we couldn't spare her. Yet I 
was exceedingly busy at the office and very 
much inclined to feel that to send her away 
was the only solution to the problem. 

“Why in thunder don't you break her 
yourself ?" The question was put to me point- 
blank one day by Harvey King, with the 
bluntness that sometimes characterizes that 
splendid sportsman and artist who loves so 
well to paint real bird dogs in action or in 
any poses peculiar to the breed. 

My first inclination was to say I hadn't 
time. We are apt to get into the habit these 
days of thinking we haven't time for things. 
But Mr. King scoffed at the idea. “When I 
was a young man," he said, “I wouldn't think 
of having one of my dogs trained by some 
one else—never cared a whit for one that I 
didn't train myself. You can train your little 
setter—why don't you do it? You'll never 
be half so satisfied with her unless you do. 
You young fellows these days give me a pain 
with all your rush and artificiality!" 

The taunt in his voice was as a challenge 


4 


BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


from other days to the younger generation, 
and I never yet have let a challenge pass un¬ 
noticed. I decided then and there to take the 
time to break the little bitch. Instead of re¬ 
gretting it—I wouldn’t have missed it for 
anything in the world. It reawakened many 
memories, and, more than that, I found it 
so much fun that I have ever since been tak¬ 
ing most of my recreation with the dogs. I 
still work Byrd regularly, except during the 
season when the quail are paired out, and 
have since trained two of her puppies as well 
as countless other dogs both for myself and 
others. But all this is another story—to 
be taken up at some later time. 

I already knew, and also soon located 
other places, where quail could be found— 
for although this greatest of all game birds is 
now in disgrace in Ohio, and has been de¬ 
moted from his once proud position of peer¬ 
age to a very tame and undignified rating as 
a “song bird,” still there is, as yet, no restric¬ 
tion against making him fly. I hope that be¬ 
fore this book has ceased entirely to sell there 
will be another story to tell so far as the 
Buckeye State is concerned in this respect— 


FIRST DAYS IN THE FIELD 5 

and I believe it will be so. My dictionary 
classifies quail as “a game bird”; but the 
statesmen of Ohio have decreed that he is but 
an idle singer of songs. Be that as it may, I 
broke my bird dog on quail—and they didn't 
smell like song birds to her. 

I shall never quite forget just how I felt 
returning from the fields with Byrd after that 
memorable first day of her “training.” It 
seemed as though little or nothing at all had 
been accomplished. She had not sensed even 
remotely just what the idea seemed to be. I 
was the personification of discouragement 
and despair. I may as well say right here 
that it was only after a great number of trips 
afield that I was given the right even to hope 
for eventually successful results. Of course, 
I'm putting this pretty strong—but the point 
is, I want all amateurs who read this book to 
guard against being too easily discouraged in 
the early stages. One of the chief reasons for 
this was that, although of the bluest blood 
lines, neither Byrd's father nor mother were 
ever hunted. Thus there was a dead genera¬ 
tion behind her which I had to combat. It 
was a very noticeable contrast to Byrd's own 


6 


BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


puppies, all of which have been keen to hunt 
almost from the day they were whelped. 
Certain it is that all the little rascals of her 
first litter were “birdier” at five months than 
their mother was at fifteen. But again I 
digress. 

To help out in the work I took along a very 
fine Pointer for which I had formed a great 
fondness, having hunted over him the season 
before in Illinois. We had not been out so 
very long before “Old Ned” made a charac¬ 
teristic and beautiful stand and I decided not 
to put the check cord on Byrd, but rather let 
her come up to him and see what, if any, at¬ 
tention she would pay to his pose; and what, 
if anything, she would do. We were not long 
in doubt. She went right on past him as if 
nothing at all were indicated by Ned’s 
statuesque stand. Every which way the 
birds flew when she flushed them. The sad 
part of it to me was that she seemed not at 
all to realize what she had done. In fact, she 
appeared scarcely to notice the quail at all. 
That is what cut me to the quick. 

And right here now, before we go any 
further, I want to discuss just this thing. 


FIRST DAYS IN THE FIELD 7 

Some dogs mature more quickly than others. 
Just as do some people. Perhaps your dog 
may be one of these slow developers. Be 
sure of this before allowing yourself to be¬ 
come discouraged too quickly or easily. Else 
you may live to regret a too impetuous deci¬ 
sion that may rob you of what might have 
become a splendid performer. 

After Byrd flushed that first covey I tried 
to put the check cord on her and lead her up 
to the singles as Ned found and pointed them 
one after another. Nothing doing! With 
the cord attached to her, Byrd simply refused 
to move, squatting right down in her tracks 
with her head between her paws—and that’s 
all there was to it. Thus did I arrive at an¬ 
other conclusion in regard to the training of 
Byrd: she would have to be steadied with¬ 
out the help of the check cord. That only 
made matters more difficult in the case of 
one so exceedingly timid as she. But I 
realize that most of you will be able to use 
this means of checking and controlling your 
dog, so will mention that a very good con¬ 
trivance can be made by getting a plain ring 
of about one and one quarter inches in di- 


8 


BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


ameter at the hardware store and tie this to 
the end of a stout cord some forty feet long. 
Loop the cord through this ring to make a 
noose to slip over the dog’s head; and the 
choke feature of this device will be as severe 
as you have any right or reason to want. For 
those who prefer a more fancy store-made 
device, however, there are a number of very 
good choke collars on the market which may 
be ordered through most any bird-dog ken¬ 
nel, sporting goods store or outdoor maga¬ 
zine. 

The balance of that first lesson of Byrd’s 
was devoted to working out the singles of 
the one covey we found and trying to de¬ 
cide just what would be the best way 
to overcome her seemingly unconscious lack 
of appreciation of what it should mean to 
have right there under her very nose the 
foremost of the game birds, to hunt which 
she and her ancestors before her had been 
born and bred. Every time Ned pointed she 
went heedlessly right on past him. Yet, 
when we tried to put the check cord on her, 
she would just quit cold and slink at my 
heels, doubled up like a limp rag. I soon 


FIRST DAYS IN THE FIELD 9 

saw there was no chance to use the cord as 
a restraint. The minute she felt it about 
her neck she ceased to need restraint—she 
then needed a cord to pull her toward the 
birds, not to hold her back. The reason for 
this was that she was naturally timid and 
had not been accustomed to anything of the 
kind and felt so humiliated that she simply 
“laid down” on the job. Although through 
careful handling and by instilling confidence 
I have built up in Byrd a sufficient boldness 
and independence in the field, nevertheless, I 
realize more fully all the time how easily 
she might have been ruined forever in those 
early formative days—for certainly she was 
naturally the most timid puppy I had ever 
seen. The fact that she has become to-day 
the most perfect bird dog I have known 
in the field, taking her work day in and day 
out, is irrefutable evidence of what can be 
done in developing a dog if one will only go 
at the job in the correct, careful way. 

I went home very much discouraged from 
that first lesson and found it easy to chide 
myself for having bought an Irish Setter in 
the beginning, when so many of the follow- 


10 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

ers of the other breeds had urgently advised 
against it—arguing that either a Pointer or 
one of the other Setters would be found more 
“birdy,” and making all manner of fun of me 
for my determination to develop an Irish¬ 
man as a real bird dog. 

However, the mere fact that I was con¬ 
fronted with a problem did not cause me to 
give up the ship. I was just bullheaded 
enough to determine to keep at it until I con¬ 
quered the situation. The fact that it was 
hard was no excuse to give up and prove a 
quitter. That only made it all the more in¬ 
teresting—and ultimate success all the more 
worth while. It was simply a question of 
matching wits with the situation. The re¬ 
sult could be secured and I was bound that 
I would solve it. Then it was that I finally 
reached a decision. This was, that I would 
“break” Byrd by talking to her, and reason¬ 
ing things out after being sure that I had 
made her understand without question what 
was wanted. 

I began by making it a point always to 
talk to her around home in an ordinary tone 
of voice and in the most matter-of-fact man- 


FIRST DAYS IN THE FIELD n 


ner. I did not talk to her in the generally 
accepted doggy style of language. Instead 
of calling her upstairs at home, for ex¬ 
ample, by saying: “Here, Byrd,” I would say 
very naturally, and in the same tone of voice 
as if talking with some friend, something 
after this fashion: “Byrd, don’t you want to 
come up here with me?—come on up.” I 
practiced this sort of thing whenever I had 
the time and opportunity. The result was 
not instantaneous by any means—but I do 
honestly believe that it increased, and de¬ 
veloped, Byrd’s ability to understand the 
English language. It wasn’t expected to 
work miracles; it did help gradually to 
awaken in my puppy a desire to do what her 
master wanted. 

You know, a dog wants to do what you 
want him to do. He wants to do right. 
Dogs don’t deliberately want to do wrong. 
Those that do not seem to embody this truth 
in their make-ups have simply got off on 
the wrong foot first, early in life. And nine 
chances in ten it was the master’s fault. 
You give a young dog a fair chance right 
from the beginning and he won’t often go 


12 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

far wrong. Spoil him once, however, and 
you may never get him right again. Win 
his confidence early—then never give him 
cause to have his faith shaken. You will be 
repaid many times over in the service you 
will get that otherwise you would not. In 
handling a dog, the big thing is to realize 
that the dog thinks too . You must try to 
interpret what he is thinking—then half your 
battle is won. Guess wrong, and you get 
nowhere—or worse. 

I am reminded of a certain fellow who 
says that his wife never objects to his play¬ 
ing poker because he always splits with her 
fifty-fifty when he wins. One day he was 
telling me of having stayed out until 4:00 
a.m. playing cards the night before. He 
said he won one hundred and forty dollars. 
He told me his wife was awake when he got 
home, but made no complaint when he an¬ 
nounced the result of his efforts. “I gave 
her a ten-dollar bill/ > said he, “and she was 
glad I had gone to the party.” 

“But I thought you won one hundred and 
forty dollars,” I reminded him. 

“I did,” said he, “but of course I couldn't 


FIRST DAYS IN THE FIELD 13 

tell her that—it was too much. You see she 
would at once figure that if I could win that 
much, I also might lose that much; and that 
would never do—you know how it is.” And 
then he added sagely: “You must remember 
they think too, and you’ve got to keep just 
a little ahead of them an’ watch your step 
at that.” 

I’ve used this story a hundred times since 
to drive home my point regarding dogs: 
they think too . Try to interpret what their 
angle of thought is and guide your actions 
with and toward them accordingly, and you 
will succeed just in proportion to how cor¬ 
rectly you read their thoughts. Throughout 
this book I shall have many occasions to 
refer to this great truth which I believe 
governs so definitely whether you will meet 
with success or failure in handling dogs. 
The husband and wife poker story always 
seems to drive the point home pretty suc¬ 
cessfully and helps to keep it in memory. 
They think too . This secret is the key to 
success. 

No two dogs are alike in temperament, 
and what may be the right treatment for one 


14 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

might ruin another. If you can’t realize 
this, and sense the individual situation in 
each instance, and fit the cure to the case, 
understanding the essentials yet fully con¬ 
scious that rules are made but to be broken 
—then you had better not tackle the job of 
attempting to break a bird dog. I can only 
add that if, on the other hand, you do have 
the patience and the sympathy and the de¬ 
sire to undertake this work with a full ap¬ 
preciation that there is no more interesting 
study of psychology—then you will find the 
ultimate reward fully worth the effort. 

Right here let me take advantage of the 
opportunity to advance a certain definite con¬ 
clusion in regard to teaching a dog to do 
anything. There is something besides just 
the dog’s confidence which you must secure. 
If you would the most easily and surely 
direct his tendencies along the lines of your 
desires there must exist between you a per¬ 
fect companionship. It is this that will 
cause your desires to be easily interpreted 
by the dog, and the desire on his part to 
follow them will be but the perfectly natural 


FIRST DAYS IN THE FIELD 15 

result. Your aim should be to approach as 
nearly as you can the state of camaraderie 
that exists between a boy and his dog—or 
between dog and master on the frozen trails 
of the far North, where dogs often rise to 
such supreme heights in their service. Then 
you will have the right basis as a foundation 
for big accomplishment from your efforts. 

Years ago, as a boy, I had a big Gordon 
Setter that I taught to pull me around in a 
little wagon. He was as perfect in his re¬ 
sponse to pressure of the reins as any horse 
behind which I have ever ridden. “Old 
Frank” was thoroughly broken to drive. I 
used to go any place with him. Yet I do not 
recall ever having given him any special set 
instruction. The companionship between 
us was so supreme that it was simply the 
most natural thing in the world for him to 
understand what I desired him to do, and his 
love made him want to do it. Like Topsy, 
he “just grew” into whatever I wished him 
to do. He was the first bird dog I ever 
owned. In his hunting there was no par¬ 
ticular direct effort ever put on him, yet dear 
Old Frank was my first worthwhile dog, 


16 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


and one of the four really remarkable dogs 
that I have owned and loved—though I have 
two unusual puppies coming along now 
which bid fair to raise the count to six. These 
puppies are Smada Byrd's King and Byrd's 
Eileen, a son and a daughter of Smada 
Byrd. Of course I realize there will also be 
more as time goes on. 

I once had a dog that I thought of show¬ 
ing on the bench, yet I could not seem to get 
him to pose properly so as to display his 
points of excellence. He just wouldn't 
“stand” for me. But one evening I came 
home to find that my little boy had accom¬ 
plished what I had failed to do—the dog 
stood perfectly for him and even seemed 
delighted to do so. And so I say to you who 
would break a bird dog—or teach a dog to 
do anything at all—the closer you can ap¬ 
proach the boy type of perfect companion¬ 
ship the more natural will the teaching seem 
and the surer will the results take form. 

The second time I took Byrd out for a les¬ 
son nothing of particular interest came up. 
Mrs. Lytle and my boy went along and the 
only exciting incidents were that on the way 



1 


o 2^-2 * 

\ • "«< * 7 * *»* 

«0 ^ e-*i -♦— _ 

^ Q * 






~ s o ^ 

^ * ** «*— -CT 


t*\ t** 

s rr •*- ^ s^ s S 

^ o S* t 3 v ,N *‘ 

■c: 'sn s ~ o 

*- O ^ C 5 ^ r - 

- • ^ ^ 

«— ^ Z J 

S CS • c - 


o -s. r 

t-> <-~> t. 

Sc; (3 

"C .*> s s 

^ ^ v 5 o ^ 

o 

rt ?*> , q 

2 £^= 

>3 ** Cs 

t._ -w ^ 


^ V, 


«0 
S 

3 

<o ^ ^ 

w B ^ ° ^ 

o ^ ^*<2 *** ^ 

H-* ^ ^2 u ~zz ^ 

tos*- 

C/2.ji ^ 
c> 


s ^ 

Q _ 


Ci 

C> 


-0 <L> 


• v* 


V CrC'S ° 
2 £-2^ 

“ ‘ ~v 


. - - - ^ 

^ s v- ^ J^ 5 r* 

c> Q ^ ^ ^3 '- 

"■*— <Li .^“ 1^ 

*♦— r , r— »Ci **— r*» 

^ ^ "S ** *C> 2 

°o ^ C: ? g 

K»j *+*■* ^ 

S q 2 ^ 

•£•«:*: § 




^ - 'W ~- 's.J, 

C5 o S^.2 SS-- S 

*Ss o r* *c; c: 

^O g* *> 


c; 

c> 


o £> £ 

s C v -s ^ -S s ? 


«**. «>. v — 

*3* * «>• ^ 

^^5 «»Ci '■^i* 

c: ^ c; 

-S,^ '*~ S »o -~ 
- ^ ^ ^ 


^ s 3 

^ c - 
? .*0 C 


«: c •+-, 01 ^ 1 ^ 
C, O S o 


2> 

2 

r»* ^ 


2 

£- 

o 


'S; ^ *c 
^ o 2r- 

Sfe,^ C5 -Ci ^5 ^ 


C 

H-, 

-♦** 

O 













































FIRST DAYS IN THE FIELD 17 

out I accidentally ran over and killed both a 
turkey and a squirrel—and before the train¬ 
ing had progressed very far it started to 
rain so hard that I found myself not at all 
popular as the result of what had been a well- 
intentioned invitation to witness a lesson 
in bird-dog culture. Get this point, how¬ 
ever: the day was not wasted in spite of lack 
of bird work. No day afield is lost when you 
are breaking a bird dog. The thing that is 
accomplished may not be noticeable—but 
some day it will bear fruit quite unexpect¬ 
edly. Byrd was at least given another 
chance to see good old Ned at his sturdy, 
faithful work and it could not help but deep 
down in the soul of her make an impression 
and cause her to begin to take the tiniest 
mite more interest in her work. The diffi¬ 
culty was in getting on game. We had not 
yet had much luck in finding birds. You 
know how it is—when you want them most 
they're the hardest to locate. Still, no small 
part of the pleasure is in the anticipation, 
and I knew that a better day would dawn. 

Several persons have asked me if I don't 


18 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

believe in yard breaking a dog before taking 
him into the field. The answer is that it all 
depends. If the dog is unruly, you had bet¬ 
ter do it. Otherwise not. The less you have 
“monkeyed” with a young dog the more in¬ 
dependently he will hunt when first taken 
afield—and that, of course, is one of the 
things most to be desired. You are apt to 
restrict him too much if you attempt great 
restraint too early. I believe in letting 
things come naturally as much as possible. 
(See Mr. Robert Bruen’s letter published 
further along in this book.) 

One of the best things for a puppy before 
you start the actual lessons is that he may 
have been farm raised and by self-hunting 
start to acquire an amount of natural “bird 
sense.” 


CHAPTER II 
GETTING ON GAME 


►OUT this time I was talking with a 



friend about the breaking of his 


two young Pointers and we decided 
to take our dogs out together for a run—al¬ 
though this thing of taking young dogs into 
the field together is a very poor practice as a 
rule. They are a bad influence on each 
other. It is better to take only one young 
dog at a time, and with a dependable old dog 
to set a good example. But the stage which 
our dogs had reached at that time was not 
such that much harm could result, as none of 
them were far enough along to have any¬ 
thing to spoil. My friend, who had been the 
last President of the Dayton Pointer Club, 
was as ardent a dog lover as myself—which 
is saying a good deal. He invited me to go 
out to his father’s place, about five miles 
from town, and promised that we would find 


20 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


at least five or six coveys of quail to work on 
—there being nothing in Ohio's (, song bird” 
law against making them fly. 

Before we had made our first trip there, 
however, my little boy suddenly came down 
with scarlet fever and that threw our plans 
to the four winds. I was quarantined away 
from home; and made a business trip to Chi¬ 
cago. When I returned my friend ’phoned 
me one day and suggested that we go out 
early the following morning. I asked him 
what he meant by “early” and he replied that 
no hour would frighten him. We bickered 
back and forth, stalling, until I named the 
hour of five—and five it was agreed upon for 
the next morning. That was the start of as 
pleasant a period as I have ever known, had 
it not been for the fact of my boy’s illness. 
As he was out of danger, however, I had 
nothing to fear and every other morning for 
three weeks we met promptly at $:00 a. m. 

On the very first of these early expeditions 
one of the young Pointers made a particu¬ 
larly nice stand and quite a stanch one, too. 
His master naturally was proud of his dog 
—and I was just as discouraged as he was 


GETTING ON GAME 


21 


pleased, for Byrd banged right along with 
no attempt at stopping. My friend tried to 
console me by saying: “Just you wait— 
some day you'll come along and find that 
little bitch all doubled up on point. Wait 
till it comes to her—which is just what will 
happen some good day when you least ex¬ 
pect it.” 

“Well, when that day comes,” I answered, 
“I'll buy the ginger ale for the crowd.” Yes, 
and I'd have bought more. I just felt as 
though what I wanted more than anything 
else in the whole wide world was for that 
puppy to make her first real point. 

One thing must be said in her favor at this 
stage, however, and that is she was learning 
the incidentals of good field work—how to 
manipulate fences and independently take 
care of herself generally. I certainly had 
good reason to be particularly pleased with 
the way she negotiated the highest and 
meanest of fences. Several times after we 
had returned home I noticed that she had cut 
herself quite badly, yet had never complained 
or given any sign. If your young bird dog 
has spent a period in the country, as is a very 


22 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

good thing, some of these things, such as 
getting over, through or under fences will be 
picked up naturally by himself. Otherwise, 
it becomes a part of the regular education. 
It is a great pleasure to own a dog that will, 
of his own accord, “take” fences that his run¬ 
ning-mates cannot negotiate or are afraid to 
tackle. “It’s all a part of the game,” as Har¬ 
vey King would say. With more maturity, 
of course, your dog should become expert at 
getting through fences, as well as over them, 
and thus waste as little time and effort as 
possible. If he isn’t of the oversized, awk¬ 
ward variety this acquirement will the more 
readily be attained. I never like to see an 
unwieldy dog. But this, of course, is purely 
a personal prejudice. 

Oh, but those were glorious mornings! It 
was during late September and early Oc¬ 
tober and the sun would just be peeping over 
the Eastern horizon as we arrived within 
sight of the farm where we ran the dogs. 
Down a long lane we would go back to the 
fairest little forest you ever saw, beyond 
which stretched far fields of clover and old 
corn, ideal cover for the most glorious of 


GETTING ON GAME 23 

game birds. We were always in the fields by 
six o’clock and those cool, clear mornings 
fairly snapped with vigor and made you just 
tingle with life. All of my days I shall look 
back with ever present pleasure to those 
mornings during the breaking of little Byrd. 
Big and red and bright the sun would crawl 
up over the sky line of the East and with 
great deep breaths I would “step on her” in 
the Ford Sedan, responding to the urge to 
go—the delight of being up and at ’em. I 
just couldn’t hold myself back and it seemed 
as if the motor itself must feel likewise. The 
dogs were ever aquiver with eager excite¬ 
ment to be out. 

I could see that Byrd was enjoying these 
trips—but, let it be said, she was no nearer 
than ever, so far as I could see, to any actual 
appreciation of what it was all about. Un¬ 
dismayed, just the same, I kept right on, and 
one would almost have been amused at my 
diligence and sincerity in the face of no ap¬ 
parent result. I held an almost sublime faith 
that some day Byrd would discover what her 
nose was for. In the meantime I went right 
along putting her into birds and talking to 


24 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

her when she flushed them. Much of this 
latter would have been done away with, you 
understand, had I been able satisfactorily to 
use the check cord on her. Also, the instinct 
to point is much stronger in some dogs than 
in others. You probably often have seen 
small puppies point sparrows or chickens or 
just a shadow. In others—and these may be 
fully as good in the field—the development 
of the pointing inclination is much slower. 
In any event it is best not to attempt to stop 
a young dog up and make him steady too 
soon. You can always do this. The thing 
you can't do is make him go out unless he 
wants to naturally or is susceptible to being 
gently encouraged to do so. Nothing should 
ever be done that may tend to restrict the de¬ 
velopment of speed and range and the desire 
to go out in search of game. Artificial 
means of stopping a dog up, if employed too 
early or by one who lacks judgment and ex¬ 
perience, may prove the ruination of what 
might have become a very fine animal under 
proper handling. I can only add here that 
the lack of good judgment in handling dogs 
is appalling—it is cruel to contemplate how 


GETTING ON GAME 


25 

many thousands of good dogs are misused 
through ignorance as well as lack of sym¬ 
pathy and appreciation. 

For the benefit of those amateurs not ac¬ 
quainted with the use of the check cord 
(which does have its place, of course, if used 
in the proper way and at the right time) let 
me explain that a good plan is to take about 
forty feet of stout cord or light clothes line, 
at the end of which is tied a small ring, 
through which the cord is passed to make 
a loop, with plenty of play. When on 
birds, slip this loop or noose over the dog’s 
head and hold him to a point by restraining 
his desire to run in and flush. He will soon 
learn, then, what it is all about and what is 
wanted of him. The noose pinches as the dog 
strains forward, and thus his impetuosity 
is overcome. It is also a good idea at such 
times to repeat some such word as “Steady” 
or “Careful” or “Whoa”—so that the dog 
associates the word used with the restraint, 
and later on, without the cord, he will re¬ 
spond to the word alone. Such a word may 
then be used ever afterward in hunting when 
you want to urge caution or curb some tern- 


26 


BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


porary impetuosity. You will remember 
what I formerly said about “They think too.” 
They have tried it and know they can't catch 
the birds anyway, and this has a great influ¬ 
ence when they come to reason it out for 
themselves and decide that, after all, the best 
thing to do is just to “stand," which your re¬ 
straint with the rope so plainly indicates as 
your desire. This would be true even if you 
weren't also aided by the instinct which is 
bred in the bone and which makes it natural 
for your blue-blooded bird dog to point. 
The only thing is that in some the instinct is 
stronger than in others and they come to it 
more quickly. This is often influenced by 
how much and how well the dog’s parents 
have been hunted. 

The same cord is used if the dog chases 
when the birds are flushed, or before you 
give the order to “fetch" if a kill has been 
made. You want your dog steady to shot and 
wing . If he is not naturally so (as some will 
be found to be) use the check cord even after 
you have gotten him steady on point, and, 
when the birds are put up, let the dog chase 
them for all he is worth —until he comes to 


GETTING ON GAME 


27 

the end of that forty feet of check cord! The 
summersault he gets then will remain with 
him always in memory and the chances are 
he will be steady thereafter—and certainly 
two spills will do it if one doesn't. It is 
usually a good rule not to attempt to steady 
a dog down to shot and wing until after he is 
absolutely stanch on point, else you are apt 
to make him nervous in handling game. 
The use of the check cord in making him 
steady to shot and wing is so certain of re¬ 
sults that you have nothing to fear from 
waiting—whereas a blinker is a possible re¬ 
sult if you attempt too many things at once 
when steadying him down to the point. Be 
governed, too, in the use of the check cord by 
your dog's disposition—whether he is natu¬ 
rally timid or bold. If the latter, you haven't 
much to fear; but if he is timid, be careful. 
It may help you, also, to bear in mind that, 
as a rule, a Pointer is bolder than a Setter 
and hence will stand more force. A Setter 
usually needs urging rather than restraint, 
while with a Pointer it is generally the re¬ 
verse. 

Being denied the use of the check cord on 


28 


BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


Byrd, and dependent entirely upon making 
her understand what was wanted by talking 
to her, coupled with her desire to do what 
she knew I wished, made the job of training 
her much more delicate than otherwise—but 
at the same time doubled the interest in try¬ 
ing to accomplish the purpose I had set out 
to attain. I had this much to go on: I knew 
that she wanted to do the right thing—any 
dog does. It thus became my duty simply to 
make my desires so clearly known as to leave 
no chance for any uncertainty or conflict of 
purpose. You will find your whole training 
job lightened if you go on the supposition 
that the right sort of a dog wants to do right 
rather than wrong; and your job is to make 
the right thing clear to him. 

One day when we were coming back 
through a ragweed field on our way home— 
all of a sudden, just ahead where the field 
joined a deep woods, there arose such a clat¬ 
ter as reminded me of that poem of early 
childhood, “ ’Twas The Night Before Christ¬ 
mas.^” It proved to be a big covey of pheas¬ 
ants that had flushed immediately in front of 
Byrd. They made enough noise to fluster 


GETTING ON GAME 


29 

even a staid old English Bull dog—never 
have I seen so many pheasants in one bunch. 
I could not see Byrd from where I was, but 
my companion could, and I asked him what 
she did. 

“There she is, still standing like a little 
rock,” he answered, with as much enthusi¬ 
asm as if she had been his own. But I didn't 
know what to think about it. She had 
flushed the big birds, to be sure, whether ac¬ 
cidentally or otherwise. Yet, having done 
the deed, she was absolutely stanch to wing. 
I put it down to astonishment at the size of 
them (the first pheasants she had ever seen) 
and the great racket they made that she 
remained steady to wing, rather than from 
any correct definite intention on her part. I 
think she was simply too astonished to move 
—else I feel sure she would have chased 
them. She had not yet reached the stage of 
development where I might even expect 
steadiness of this sort from her. In which 
diagnosis I believe I am correct. 

Be that as it may, the day of the pheas¬ 
ants marked a milestone in the training of 
Byrd. From then on I think she was just a 


30 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

little bit more “birdy,” just a little keener 
and more active and enthusiastic in the field. 
She had seen game at close range—big birds 
that could not help but thrill her—and it was 
noticeable in all her work thereafter. 


CHAPTER III 

GUN-SHYNESS AND RETRIEVING 


I NOW felt it advisable to test Byrd out 
for gun-shyness. The thought was 
hastened by a friend inquiring if I were 
sure she was not gun-shy, and I could tell by 
the way he said it, that he had his doubts due 
to her natural timidness. I answered confi¬ 
dently that I was sure she would not be. 
Nevertheless, I determined to put her to the 
test without waiting longer. My boy’s little 
22 rifle was used as the first firearm of which 
we pulled trigger over her. I used “longs” 
so as to get some mild sort of noise—yet 
these in the open air make but a slim imita¬ 
tion of a shotgun’s sound. Even with this 
mild sounding arm, however, I would not 
risk a shot until she was “in game.” The 
next time Byrd flushed a quail I shot at it 
with the little rifle as it flew away. Oh joy, 
oh bliss—she would not be gun-shy if this 
31 


BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


32 

were any criterion! She heeded the shot 
not at all. So far, so good—but we must go 
further. It was necessary that she soon 
come to understand what a gun is for . 

A couple of days after the first test just 
mentioned I took Byrd out to Ray Vance’s 
farm along the Miami River, where there are 
plenty of birds. We flushed a most wonder¬ 
ful covey that day, I remember, and I was 
more than usually downhearted that my 
little bitch had not yet conceived the idea of 
absolute steadiness on point, for which ful¬ 
fillment of my desires I so earnestly prayed 
because I wanted to have her ready to shoot 
over when the season opened. As a matter 
of fact, I might better have given my atten¬ 
tion to other worries—for the big thing is to 
get a dog to go out . You can always stop 
them up when they’re really ready for it; 
but to give them the urge to go out boldly 
and stay out is the most ticklish phase of 
training, especially if you have them under 
perfect control all the while—yet the thrill 
of watching a fast, wide-going dog is the 
purest poetry of pleasure that it is possible 
for a field dog to give. 


GUN-SHYNESS 


33 

Back by Ray’s barn were some pigeons 
flying overhead and I asked him if he 
wouldn’t go and get his shotgun. This, then, 
was to be the first real test of gun-shyness. 
It should have been made on quail—but tame 
pigeons are not yet classed as “song birds” 
and so we chose these. Just as one passed 
directly over Ray’s head he pulled the trig¬ 
ger—and, before Byrd had even a chance to 
show fear, the pigeon came tumbling to the 
ground almost at her feet. She promptly 
grabbed it, and this gave us a chance to give 
her the first lesson in retrieving. I tried to 
get her to “Fetch” just by talking to her, but 
she either did not comprehend or else simply 
would not do it. 

Ray then started to take the pigeon from 
her—and that excited her interest. We kept 
up this game, Byrd trying to keep it from 
him and Ray trying to get it from her. 
Every time she let go of it he would start for 
it and then she raced for it again. Finally 
she tired of this and dropped the pigeon far 
to one side. When Ray, however, went to 
get it, and she noticed what he was going to 
do, she quickly ran and grabbed it up and 


34 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

brought it to me—clearly indicating that she 
wanted me to aid her in keeping it from 
Vance who was trying to take it from her. 
That gave me the looked-for and longed-for 
opportunity. I patted her and praised her so 
that she understood I was pleased with what 
she had done in bringing the pigeon to me. 
Furthermore, the minute I saw her headed 
in my direction with it, I began to say 
“Fetch” encouragingly, and kept repeating 
this so that as she approached she would as¬ 
sociate this word with the bringing of the 
pigeon to me, and the subsequent receiving 
of my compliments. 

When I took the pigeon from her and she 
saw that she had thus kept it from Vance, 
she was delighted with the game. The next 
thing on the program was to repeat the 
proposition and have her again get it away 
from Vance and bring it to me. We took the 
pigeon to the pasture gate and threw it over 
into the pasture. I told her to go “Fetch,” 
but she had not yet made up her mind that 
she would do this unless the game were 
being played. Yet, the minute Ray started 
to open the gate and go for the pigeon, she 


GUN-SHYNESS 


35 

made a bold dash for it and brought it back 
to me again to the same old tune of “Fetch,” 
and again she received my praise and my 
pats. From this start it was not a far cry to 
have her understand that when I said 
“Fetch” I meant for her to bring to me what¬ 
ever it was that might be indicated; and she 
also came to understand that as a result of 
the satisfactory doing of this thing she would 
receive my compliments and praise in no un¬ 
certain terms. It required, then, but a rea¬ 
sonable amount of practice until she took de¬ 
light in it and would bring to me whatever 
it was intended she should retrieve. We thus 
at one and the same time proved that she 
was not gun-shy and also gave her the first 
lessons in retrieving. It goes without saying 
that we were careful not to tire her, and 
stopped while Byrd was still keen for the 
game. This was important to results—is 
always important, in fact. 

I might say at this point that it would be 
well, when possible, to have a dog broken to 
retrieve by the force system. By the plan I 
pursued with Byrd you have no way to com¬ 
pel them to obey your command if they do 


36 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

not do so willingly. Training by the force 
system is different. I didn’t use it on Byrd 
—but just the same I recommend the force 
system as the safest and most satisfactory 
for permanent and unfailing results. There 
are several methods in vogue, but the fol¬ 
lowing is probably at least the equal of any 
of them and I am pleased to be able to 
offer it to my readers. It is the system used 
for many years, with the most successful re¬ 
sults, by Mr. R. J. McCullagh to whom we 
are indebted for the balance of this chapter. 

Force Retrieving 

No. i. Devote time and energy toward 
interesting the dog to take an object from 
the hand and hold it until you take it from 
him. 

No. 2. Never begin this step until he has 
thoroughly understood No. i. Then induce 
him to pick up the pad or corn cob and turn 
with it to you. All the while keep him on a 
short line, and keep his attention concen¬ 
trated on his work. This may last one day 
or perhaps weeks, according to the disposi- 



Laverstoke Powder-Horn 

The Springer Spaniel of late has come to the front as a very 
desirable dog for the mixed bag. One of the foremost breeders 
of the day is Mr. E. Chcvricr, of Winnipeg. The picture above 
shows Mr. Chcvricr’s famous Springer, Laverstoke Powder- 
Horn, winner of the first spaniel field trials ever held in 
America. 



Mr. R. J. McCullagh 

Mr. McCullagh is an ardent advocate of force retrieving—and 
who boasts of splendid results from his system as detailed on 
page 36. 













GUN-SHYNESS 


37 

tion of the dog or ability of the trainer. 
Take Time . Don’t Hurry . Teach Thor¬ 
oughly, 

No. 3. The check cord is removed and the 
dog is free. The object is thrown out a short 
distance and same order is given as in No. 1 
and No. 2. Always have him deliver in a 
sitting posture. Note well as to the dog's 
interest in his lessons and his willingness to 
obey. If contrary or slow in this lesson take 
him back to No. 1 and No. 2 for a short time. 
Then again to No. 3. 

No. 4. It is usually quite easy. You 
simply increase the distance until he will 
bring the object from any distance and de¬ 
liver. 

No. 5. A glove is an excellent object to 
use, and the place should be in an open field 
where you can drop it and have him seek 
dead, etc. He will soon learn to go back for 
a long distance and fetch anything within 
reason, but not unless he has been faithfully 
drilled in preceding lessons. 

No. 6. Assuming that he is proficient in 
No. 4 and No. 5 take him afield for real work ) 
and when a bird is down be sure that it is 


38 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

dead; lead him to it, hold it in your hand 
so that he cannot grab or bite it. Give him 
to understand that he must take and hold it 
easily. Then ( keep a line on him ) pitch the 
bird out a few yards where he can see it 
plainly and let him pick it up. Now you are 
at the critical point . Be alert, see that he 
turns the instant the bird is safe in his 
mouth and have him come direct to you as in 
No. 4 and No. 5. If first trial is satisfactory, 
then release him and pitch out again several 
times or a dozen times until you are sure that 
he will not bolt with it. If YOU slip up 
on this lesson you will be in for a lot of 
trouble and then must go back to former les¬ 
sons and bring him on again by easy stages, 
using force collar whenever he shows dispo¬ 
sition to sulk. Once the dog is properly 
taught by this system he is a retriever for¬ 
ever, because the remedy is always at hand 
in case of a setback. 

Note —Never insist on working a dog, 
young or old, while the weather is hot, be¬ 
cause the object is difficult to hold. Most 
dogs are easy to handle if the master is 
patient and reasonable . Occasionally you 


GUN-SHYNESS 


39 

will find one that will resort to tricks to 
avoid his lessons and perhaps refuse abso¬ 
lutely. Then begin again at whichever step 
you decide is the best and bring him on 
again. No foolishness with this method; it’s 
all business. Spectators are especially ob¬ 
jectionable in the early stages. 


CHAPTER IV 


MORE ABOUT GUN-SHYNESS AND 
RETRIEVING 

NUMBER of years ago there was a 



little group of enthusiastic hunters 


^ and lovers of sporting dogs who 

banded together for annual excursions into 
the Dakota country, where for thirty days 
or more each season they would revel in their 
favorite fields. They called themselves The 
Dakota Hunting Club—and never did more 
congenial souls find joy in the kind of life 
we love. It was the writer’s pleasure the 
other day to spend an hour with one of the 
men who was an active member of this most 
interesting club during the days of its glory. 
I found keen thrills looking through his pic¬ 
tures, reading his clippings of deeds and 
dogs, and just listening to his descriptions of 
the “old days” now gone. My friend, Judge 
Brown, showed me, among other things, an 
old letter written to him almost a quarter 
century ago by a brother member, Jim Crane, 


MORE ABOUT GUN-SHYNESS 41 

in regard to the training of a couple of their 
Chesapeake Bay dogs. I asked the Judge to 
let me publish the letter, and here it is, copied 
word for word as Mr. Crane wrote it in long 
hand on April 13, 1901: 

As promised, I give you herewith the history of 
the two pups which you are about to send to the farm 
for one of your men there to keep, with the under¬ 
standing that any one of the Dakota Hunting Club 
may get either or both dogs to hunt with at any time 
on an order from you or me. 

The breed of Chesapeake Bay dogs originated in 
Maryland in the year 1800. They are bred for duck 
dogs exclusively and are the best in the world. This 
dog Leander, called “Andy” for short, is a fine 
specimen of the breed. He is by my dog Nix, out 
of my bitch Judy II, both registered in the Ameri¬ 
can Kennel Club Stud Book. He and his ancestors 
are all “Sedg” brown color, which is the only proper 
color for Chesapeakes. He was whelped in August, 
1898. Was trained by a professional trainer and 
has had considerable experience on game. He is 
taught to be obedient to command and whistle, to 
“drop” when ordered, to come to heel when told, and 
to return from land and water at command, but 
not to run in as soon as the shot is fired. This must 
never be permitted. 


42 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

The pointer Grousemoor, called “Grouse” for 
short, was born May 28, 1900. He is by Ripstone, 
out of Jingo’s Lady. He is a grandson of Cham¬ 
pion Rip-Rap on one side and Champion Jingo on the 
other and he is one of the best-bred pointers in the 
world. He has had three months’ training by one 
of the best trainers in the country, who pronounces 
him a fine dog. He is taught to obey the whistle 
and command, to drop when ordered, to be steady 
to shot and wing, to point and back another dog 
pointing. He is young and inexperienced and must 
be held down to his work. He should be controlled 
by firm and gentle treatment. He has not been 
taught to retrieve, but he should be. Retrieving is 
easy to teach. It should be taught first in the yard, 
using some soft object which feels as much like a 
bird as possible. Put a cord on the dog’s collar 
about twenty feet long. Put the object to be re¬ 
trieved in his mouth, hold it there and lead him 
along, saying in a low voice, but distinctly, “Fetch,” 
then as you remove it from his mouth say, “Give it 
to me.” Never let him drop it. Persist in this until 
he will carry it; when he drops it, give a sharp pull 
on the cord and put it into his mouth again. The 
most difficult part is to make him pick it up from 
the ground. It will take some pains and patience 
to do this, but it can always be done; after he re¬ 
turns this object perfectly hide it in the grass and 


MORE ABOUT GUN-SHYNESS 43 

bushes and make him hunt it up, saying, “Dead 
bird, fetch.” After he has learned to return this 
object and likes to do it, kill a bird of the kind 
which you expect to shoot, and teach him to return 
it about the yard. If he refuses to pick it up check 
him with the cord and put it into his mouth and 
make him do it. If he attempts to chew or mangle 
the bird, pinch his lips severely, until he mouths it 
tenderly. Do not try to make him retrieve in the 
field until all of this is taught. When birds are 
flushed or the gun is fired, he must be made to drop 
and must stay down until ordered to retrieve, or 
to go on. This is the most important of all as a 
dog which runs in is worse than no dog at all. 

This pup is young and if he is properly controlled 
now he will make a great dog. 

Hunting dogs should be kept reasonably thin. 
They should be fed once a day, in the evening after 
the day’s work is over, all they will eat without urg¬ 
ing. The best food for them is mush made from 
the broth in which bones and meat have been boiled, 
well salted. Stir corn meal into the broth until it is 
as thick as possible and cook thoroughly. Feed cold. 
In summer coarse wheat flour is better than com 
meal, as it is not so heating. 

Going back again now to the very impor¬ 
tant subject of gun-shyness I will do so with 


44 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

the statement that it is almost criminal when 
a good dog becomes gun-shy. There is little 
or no excuse for it. If a dog has first been 
given reason to have confidence in his trainer 
(and until a dog has confidence in his trainer 
no gun should ever be fired near him) ; and if 
the first firearm used does not carry too 
heavy a load; if the dog is accustomed 
gradually to increasingly loud reports; and, 
chiefly, if the dog is “on game” at the time 
the first shot is fired, and thus has his atten¬ 
tion centered upon the game—and, better 
still, if that first shot actually brings down 
the game in his presence—then there is al¬ 
most no reason at all why any dog should be 
gun-shy. It is probably safe to say that one 
or the other, or all, of these fundamental 
laws are broken in the case of every dog that 
is gun-shy. 

If you send a fairly timid dog to a careless 
trainer and the first crack out of the box he 
fires a io- or 12-gauge shotgun over the dog 
—and stands too close to the dog at the time 
—and if there is no game in sight—and the 
dog’s confidence has not yet been won—then 
the chances are nine out of ten that any dog 


MORE ABOUT GUN-SHYNESS 45 

will develop gun-shyness right on the spot. 
If you train your own dog, and use just a 
little care in the training along the lines I 
have suggested, you will make the right sort 
of a start and then there is but little likeli¬ 
hood that gun-shyness will develop later. I 
can take my Irish Setter out in the field with 
half a dozen fellows and let them fire a regu¬ 
lar barricade into most anything on the face 
of the earth and she will even like it. She 
isn’t any more gun-shy than I am—but there 
would have been a mighty good chance in 
the early days for her to become gun-shy 
had I not exercised every precaution when 
the first shooting was done over her. 


The following letter is a sample of several 
such which came to me as a result of the first 
edition of this book. Because of its definite 
specificness I deem it worthy of publication 
—certain readers may feel greater confidence 
if they know that some of the things I sug¬ 
gest really will work. This came dated No¬ 
vember 12, 1923, from Dr. C. Kelsay, of 
Evansville, Ind. 


46 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

Want to say that I have a Llewellen Setter that 
I purchased late last fall because he had the mark¬ 
ings and looks of a dog that I once had and of which 
I thought a great deal, which was killed by an auto¬ 
mobile. I took my dog out Saturday, November 
ioth, and remembered that you mentioned in one of 
the paragraphs that it was better to have a dog on a 
point before doing any shooting because of being 
gun-shy and my dog was so gun-shy that usually the 
sound of a 22-short-rifle shot would make him hunt 
his dog house, but glad to say that Saturday he came 
to a point on a single bird and when I shot with a 16- 
gauge shotgun, he paid absolutely no attention to 
it whatever. Continued hunting and in a short time 
had another bird. This was repeated several times 
without his paying any attention to the shooting and 
believe his gun-shyness is a thing of the past and 
that he will make as good a dog as the one I lost. 

This alone is worth the price of the book and your 
other stories come about as near to being true de¬ 
scriptions and true understanding of the canine spe¬ 
cies as anything I have ever read. 

Some time back Mr. George Breunig, of 
Bloomer, Wisconsin, sent me a young dog 
for training, but she was recalled for the sea¬ 
son before she was much more than started. 
His letter, which follows, is self-explanatory 


MORE ABOUT GUN-SHYNESS 47 

and I am publishing my reply verbatim be¬ 
cause the gun-shyness phase of it may prove 
of value: 


December 14, 1923. 

Mr. J. Horace Lytle, 

Mutual Home Building, 

Dayton, Ohio. 

Dear Sir: 

Possibly you will not remember me but maybe 
you will my bitch, Belle, that you trained for me last 
spring. 

She was struck by an auto a few days before 
chicken could be hunted so could not use her; but 
used her on partridge and found that since her acci¬ 
dent she is gun-shy. Can a dog be broken of be¬ 
ing gun-shy? If you think they can, will appre¬ 
ciate any suggestions you might offer as to how to 
proceed to correct this fault. 

At the time I wrote you last summer I had about 
decided to give her up but after reading your book 
I gave her another chance and she was doing fine 
until she was injured. 

I have become very much attached to her and 
want to keep her for my shooting dog if possible. 

Yours very truly, 

Geo. N. Breunig. 


48 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


January 5, 1924. 

Bloomer, Wise. 

Dear Mr. Breunig: 

I must apologize for the delay in answering your 
letter of Dec. 14th, in which you tell me about your 
English Setter, Belle, and ask if I can suggest any¬ 
thing in the matter of curing her of gun-shyness. 

Your letter pleased me a great deal and I regard 
it as one of the best testimonials I have ever re¬ 
ceived for my bird-dog book because you state that 
after reading the book you developed Belle into a 
very good partridge and prairie chicken dog. This 
specific result is more complimentary than a thousand 
words of empty praise. 

I might say further than I remember Belle very 
well indeed and especially recall the very first day we 
had her in the field when she made a covey find 
and was as stanch as stone on her point, although 
when flushed I thought she would continue chasing 
the birds over into the next county. That, however, 
is one of the easiest things to correct and it only 
requires a little time and patience. It is often im¬ 
possible to inculcate the hunting instinct and desire 
into a dog, but a dog which already has these can 
be steadied down. 

The inquiry in your letter, however, is on the sub- 


MORE ABOUT GUN-SHYNESS 49 

ject of gun-shyness. I am sorry that Belle has de¬ 
veloped this tendency because she never did like a gun 
any too well, although I had hoped she would come to 
feel more friendly to it as game was killed over her. 
Correcting this evil, however, is something that you 
yourself can do better than any one else, and I will 
make what suggestions I can. From what you say 
of Belle in your letter I infer that the unfortunate 
auto accident is the cause behind her timidness hav¬ 
ing increased to actual gun-shyness. 

In the first place, be absolutely sure that Belle has 
implicit confidence in you and do not give her any 
cause to strain this implicit confidence. If she 
loves you and has the proper confidence, then you 
have the right foundation to work on. 

In the second place, try to pay absolutely no at¬ 
tention to the fact that she is afraid of a gun. The 
great trouble with most people is that they become 
so worried over the fact of gun-shyness that they 
show the dog they are worried, and then the dog 
thinks there is really something to worry about. 
Consequently the condition is merely aggravated. 
The thing to do is to try to appear absolutely 
unconcerned and as though you did not even notice 
the gun-shy condition. Then she will think there is 
nothing to notice and you will begin to make some 
progress. 

Try tying her securely to her kennel and let her 


50 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

get very hungry. Then give her a good dinner of 
food that she particularly craves, and very uncon¬ 
cernedly shoot a little 22 rifle at sparrows or other 
birds which may be about. You might start with 
just beebee caps and then work up to shorts and 
finally to longs. It will be a tedious job, but to 
cure Belle will be well worth while. 

Another plan, particularly after you have made 
some attempts with a 22 rifle, will be to take Belle 
with you to some trap-shooting event and just keep 
her on lead while the guns roar. You pay abso¬ 
lutely no attention to her and take all the interest 
you want in watching the shooting at the clay birds. 
Just let Belle lunge and pull and jerk and jump until 
she wears herself out, and still you must not appear 
to notice it at all. Your apparent unconcern during 
such a trial as this may accomplish the purpose. The 
more natural you make your ignoring of her the 
better it will be. 

By all means do not let any of your friends, or 
other persons, appear to notice the dog’s fright any 
more than you do. The principal thing is not to 
expect to accomplish a cure too quickly and do not 
become impatient at lack of prompt results. 

A friend was telling me not long ago of a gun- 
shy dog for which he cared enough to go to any 
pains to cure, and he said that every day he took that 
dog with him to an old barn and started by using 


MORE ABOUT GUN-SHYNESS 51 

a revolver with gradually increasing loads until the 
dog finally became inured to the explosions and ulti¬ 
mately was cured of the disease. Personally, I am 
a little afraid of that method—one reason being that 
a particularly heavy discharge might have a tendency 
to deafen the dog, and a dog that cannot hear you 
is often worse than no dog at all. 

Now, I am going to refer to a simpler plan than 
either of these, which is worth trying and which it 
occurs to me in Belle’s particular case may possibly 
work out. 

Equip yourself with a light gun, if possible not 
over a 20-gauge, but do not permit any one else to 
go with you into the field. Belle may be afraid of 
a number of guns, particularly if some of them are 
in the hands of people she does not know, where¬ 
as this may not be the case to such an extent if you 
are alone with her. Do not shoot at anything which 
flushes wild. Make it an inviolate rule never to 
shoot except over a steady point. Do not shoot 
even if she is making game and something flushes 
ahead of her. Let her come positively to rest on a 
stanch point before you even think of pulling a 
trigger. When she is on a stanch point and ab¬ 
sorbed with the scent of game, the chances are she 
won’t even notice the discharge of merely one light 
gauge gun, particularly if that gun is in the hands of 
her master in whom she has confidence and if you 


BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


52 

add to this the ability to kill a pretty high percentage 
of the game at which you shoot. 

I believe this plan in Belle’s case may prove the best 
scheme of all. I know she is so much interested in 
her hunting that if you shoot only over stanch points 
you are pretty apt to bring her out of her disease, 
at least gradually, and will ultimately cure her, pro¬ 
vided you do not get enthusiastic too quickly and 
subject her to the heavy artillery of a number of 
friends whose main idea is to fill the air with shot 
every time they see or hear something that looks 
like game. 

Trusting tnat my suggestions may be of some 
value to you, and assuring you that I shall appre¬ 
ciate it if you will let me know the result, as I am 
particularly interested, I remain 

Yours very cordially, 

J. Horace Lytle. 


Now that we seem to have the letter¬ 
quoting habit in this chapter, and since it 
refers in particular to the Dakota Hunting 
Club mentioned in the Jim Crane letter a 
few pages back, this is probably just as ap¬ 
propriate a place as we shall find in the entire 
book to quote another interesting letter that 
came to me from a reader of the first edition. 


MORE ABOUT GUN-SHYNESS 53 

There is in this letter, I think, a strong hu¬ 
man interest—coming out of a clear sky 
from a man who left my native city three 
years before I was born, although he has my 
family spotted perfectly. Yet this is not the 
reason for printing it here—for the public is 
not interested in that. The information on 
the matter of handling prairie chickens is, 
however, a subject of general interest among 
bird-dog men and Mr. Bruen’s letter is 
quoted because of what he says along these 
lines, and also for the reason that he puts 
the stamp of approval upon the process of 
training a dog along natural lines such as I 
advocate. 

Having seen an advertisement of your book 
Breaking a Bird Dog, I sent for it and was very 
much interested in the book when it came, especially 
so as I was born in Dayton, Ohio, and attended the 
old Cooper Academy with Harvey J. King, who 
with Ed. Grimes, Harries Gorman and “Doc” Houk 
were my hunting companions. 

I don’t just place you, but your picture iooks very 
much like Harry Lytle, and I am wondering if you 
are the little Johnny Lytle that was a youngster 
when I left home in 1881; or whether you are a son 


54 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

of Harry’s. At any rate, I was very much in¬ 
terested in the Outers-Recreation articles on dogs 
while you were the editor of that column, and I 
noticed with pleasure the inset of the oil painting 
by Harvey King; and here incidentally will say that 
Harvey took lessons in painting from my aunt, who 
is now Mrs. J. H. Pierce, so you see I am pretty 
familiar with the situation in Dayton and the old 
timers. 

Your methods of breaking a dog have been similar 
to those that I have experienced in substance, and it 
has always been my practice to yard break the dog 
first, get him to be chummy and have confidence in 
me before I took him into the field. When in the 
field I studied his natural inclinations and sought to 
correct only his faults, which I have found a very 
success fid process. 

You refer to Judge Britt Brown and Jim Crane. 
It was Jim Crane that I got my last two pointer 
puppies from. They were Rip Rap and Jingo 
stock, and they certainly were world beaters. I 
trained them myself. The picture of “Old John” in 
Harvey King’s inset is almost a perfect picture of 
“Old Logan,” the dog that Jim sent me. 

In your book you mention the Dakota Hunting 
Club as shooting in the Black Hills Country. It 
happens that Judge A. A. Winters, who was a mem¬ 
ber of the club, wrote P. H. Gunckel here, advising 


MORE ABOUT GUN-SHYNESS 55 

that their former location on the Gilfillan farm near 
Marshall, Minnesota, had been unsatisfactory for 
several years and they wished him to select a new 
location for them. I had just come down from 
North Dakota a short time before, so Mr. Gunckel 
took the matter up with me, and I finally located the 
Dakota Hunting Club at Stump Lake, North Dakota, 
which is south and east of Devil’s Lake, and there 
they hunted for a number of years with great suc¬ 
cess. I remember on their first trip out they wired 
me they would stop over a day in Minneapolis to 
rest their dogs, so I spent the day with them; saw 
all of their dogs and heard their tales of how finely 
they were bred and trained, some of them being 
field-trial and derby winners, but all of the highest 
breeding. I learned they were trained entirely on 
quail, but said nothing then. However, when they 
returned I asked them how their dogs worked, and 
they told me they were very disappointed, that mon¬ 
grel dogs they picked up out there beat them all 
hollow. It was then I advised them where the mis¬ 
take was made; as when I went to Fargo in ’81 I 
took up my Irish Setter that had never seen a prairie 
chicken, but was used on quail, jacksnipe and wood¬ 
cock. It took me nearly all the fall season to break 
him to stop soon enough, though he did not run in 
or intend to flush. Of course I was working in the 
office and only had one day a week to devote to him, 


56 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

so in a measure I was handicapped. After advising 
them of this and proving to them that a bird dog 
should be broken on chickens first and quail after¬ 
wards, they followed the suggestion in future and 
had no trouble. 

I do not recollect who came out with the first in¬ 
stallment of the Dakota Hunting Club, but there 
was Jim Crane, Frank Patterson, Dr. Goodhue, 
Judge Winters and Britt Brown that I know of, and 
I think Charlie Williams also. 

Wishing you success in the handling of your ken¬ 
nels and congratulating you on the delightful man¬ 
ner in which you have placed the methods of dog 
training before the public in your book, I am, 

Yours very truly, 

Robert L. Bruen. 


CHAPTER V 

HUNTING QUAIL AND PHEASANTS 
" long as my shooting days last I shall 



never forget that first day of the 


1922 quail season when I took Byrd 
over into an adjoining state for actual work. 
Because, as you very well know, you simply 
must kill game over dogs or you will find 
it mighty difficult to finish and refine them 
for the field. If you have accustomed them 
to the general proposition of hunting and 
handling, it will not be a far cry to the 
finishing touches after you begin to kill birds 
over them. I didn’t take Byrd on that trip 
with any expectation other than to finish 
her training. I didn’t even expect to make 
it a hunting expedition. It was a training 
trip purely and simply. I mention this so 
emphatically because so many persons go 
afield with a young dog more intent upon 
their own selfish and immediate pleasure 


57 


58 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

than the future welfare of the dog. Try not 
to yield to this temptation and you will be 
repaid later on many times over. 

Only Ray Vance went with me on this 
trip and we drove over into our neighbor 
state with the eager little dog between us. 
Our hearts were anxious and our ambitions 
high. Would she rise to the occasion, as we 
both so ardently hoped? Of course Old Ned 
went with us, too, to be her example in this, 
her first real hunt, as he had been through 
all the days of preliminary education. 

The little Setter seemed to sense the 
situation—seemed to realize that this day 
would be vastly different from the un¬ 
certain play days of the weeks just 
passed. It wasn't long before Ned made 
a beautiful stand and down the field 
behind him came Byrd, eager and intent 
upon finding game, having by this time 
come to take a great deal of interest in 
her field work—and then all of a sudden she 
saw the splendid liver and white Pointer 
frozen fast on his find. My heart stood still 
as I watched her—then the blood raced 
through my veins and I tingled with a rare 



Old Ned is the past master whose splendid example gave Byrd her early inspiration in 
the field and to whose credit may be laid much of her later success. 

















HUNTING 


59 

delight—for she actually stood! She backed 
her pal, the Pointer, the minute she caught 
sight of him. Stanch as a little red statue 
she honored the point of the older dog. We 
flushed the birds but I was too intent on the 
dogs to remember to shoot. Ray, however, 
made a beautiful double. He is an excellent 
shot. 

This, then, was the occasion of Byrd’s first 
real experience in actually handling game. 
Ned retrieved one of the birds Ray killed, 
but I wanted to see what Byrd would do, so 
Ray then held the older dog while I went 
ahead with Byrd to where the other quail 
had fallen. Suddenly I saw that she was ac¬ 
tually pointing herself! A moment she stood 
thus, and then the little nose slipped forward 
and she reached into the grass and picked 
up the dead quail. Then, wonder of won¬ 
ders, she turned and brought it to me before 
I even remembered to say “Fetch.” I threw 
my arms about her and praised her with 
every possible evidence of my enthusiasm so 
that she might understand it as a reward for 
her work well done. In the twinkling of an 
eye she had come into her own. She was 


6o 


BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


ready to shoot over. All the hard work and 
worry were a thing of the past. 

When you bring bird dogs to the point 
that Byrd had now reached; when they have 
actually pointed and birds have been killed 
over them; when they have retrieved their 
game; and when they have honored another 
dog by backing and have remained steady to 
shot and wing, then all the training from 
that point on is simply enriching and refin¬ 
ing their work afield. There will be no se¬ 
rious slipping back if they are rightly handled 
from then on. 

We hunted quail for two more days and 
thus had a chance to make absolutely certain 
that it was not all a mistake, and that the 
little dog would continue to do what she had 
so well started. Then we returned home for 
the opening of the pheasant season, for I 
was particularly anxious to develop her in 
this direction, believing that the fascination 
of the work of a good pheasant dog is pretty 
hard to beat. Our pheasants here in Ohio 
are more of a test for a dog than quail and 
when you get a dog that can handle them in 
a satisfactory manner it is a real treat in- 


HUNTING 


61 


deed. In passing, however, I must mention 
the closing episode of that third day on quail. 
We had just come through a wide expanse 
of corn stubble and immediately in front of 
us lay a broad green field in winter wheat, as 
rich in color as April grass. Ned circled off 
to the left and then wheeled toward us, when 
suddenly he stiffened into one of his charac¬ 
teristic attitudes at the far edge of this field. 
How can I ever forget the way the little red 
dog backed him on that occasion! Truly, 
she started to honor Ned's point from a 
hundred yards away and was perfectly 
stanch even at that distance. By talking to 
her and urging caution, we brought her for¬ 
ward until she was backing directly behind 
the other dog—yet, oh, so carefully. When 
we flushed the birds they flew in all direc¬ 
tions. We were rewarded by bagging three. 
It made a fitting end to a perfect day. 

During each breathing spell while trying 
to catch up with work back at the office next 
day, the writer would find some one to tell 
about Byrd's work on quail. I boasted par¬ 
ticularly of the time she beat Ned to the 
birds and made him back her . This had hap- 


62 


BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


pened but once, I must confess, for that 
splendid Pointer was almost unbeatable and 
he was in front of her on most of the points. 
Yet he showed his true class as a perfect 
gentleman when she found them first, and 
nobly did he back her. That was a moment 
to make an owner’s heart proud—when the 
little red dog stood in front, with the liver 
and white Pointer right behind her, gladly 
paying magnificent honor to her nose—the 
most perfect tribute that a bird dog can give. 

I was unable to get away for the opening 
day of the pheasant season but four of us 
were in the fields at sunrise the second day 
and hunted ragweeds that were almost up 
to our shoulders in spots and never lower 
than the waist. Byrd was not accustomed 
to pheasants and at first a number of them 
flushed out ahead of her, as they will do so 
often; but in the course of the day she was 
able to bring two of them to a dead stand 
and pointed beautifully. I am glad to say 
that both of these birds went into the game 
bag and it was a great inspiration to her thus 
to be rewarded when she made her points. 
One of these birds fell stone dead and we 


HUNTING 


63 

went right to it; but the other was merely 
wounded and ran as only a pheasant can do. 
We would surely have lost it, had it not been 
for the way Byrd trailed it quickly and suc¬ 
cessfully—ending by bringing the big bird 
proudly to me. 

The territory in which we hunted that day 
contained over one hundred acres of solid 
ragweeds and was one of the best pheasant 
covers existing anywhere in the state. It 
was so thick we hardly saw the little dog all 
day. About the only way to follow her was 
to watch the waving of the weeds as she 
went through them; then if they ever ceased 
to move, the chances were she had a point. 
As already stated, she successfully brought 
two pheasants to a perfect stand—a pretty 
good start for the first day of a young dog on 
new game. Especially so in the case with 
game as wiley as Ringneck pheasants—than 
which there is no bird more crafty and diffi¬ 
cult to circumvent. One of the things that 
was mentioned particularly by those in the 
party was Byrd’s industry in her work. All 
day long she wove and wound her way 
through that terrible tangle of weeds and it 


64 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

was almost dark when we called her out of 
it at the close of the day. 

I picked Byrd up, as she seemed pretty 
tired, and put her on the back seat of the 
machine, and did not have occasion to notice 
her again until we had arrived at the house. 
There had not been a sound out of her and I 
was quite sure she was rather exhausted. 
Arrived at home, I called her forth and she 
went with me into the house. I recall that 
dinner was ready—but I told the good wife 
they would have to wait for me until I had 
fed the faithful dog which had surely earned 
her reward. I spoke to my son and told him 
to look her over for burrs and get them out 
of her, in order that she might be comfort¬ 
able, and I went to get her supper. Suddenly 
my boy called out: “She can’t see! She’s 
blind!” 

I rushed into the room and it was true that 
Byrd appeared unable to open her eyes. I 
didn’t wait to examine her—but went to the 
’phone and called a veterinary, whom I re¬ 
quested to wait for me; and I carried Byrd 
back to the machine and rushed her right in 
to his office. It developed that her eyes were 


HUNTING 


65 

full of weed seeds, but she had never whim¬ 
pered nor complained all day long. With an 
instrument the veterinary took the stuff 
from the little dog’s eyes and treated them 
with boracic acid. He said there was still 
some danger but did not believe she would 
go blind and gave me much hope for her. I 
took Byrd home, fed her, and put her in her 
kennel, with a nice big bunch of clean warm 
straw around her so she might be as com¬ 
fortable as possible. 

Only once did she make a sound—and that 
was in the dead of the night when she gave 
three or four soft moans that were gently 
wafted into my room through the open 
window. I think I was asleep when these 
sounds reached me on the still night air, but 
I could not go back to sleep again, for think¬ 
ing of my loyal little dog suffering all by 
herself in the kennel just because she had 
done her duty so well in the field that day for 
me. She might have quit cold or slowed up; 
she might at least have come to me and let 
me know of her trouble—but she did none of 
these things. She gave absolutely no indi¬ 
cation of what she was suffering until my 


66 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


little boy noticed it at home after the day 
was over and she had ridden about forty 
miles in the machine. Surely that was dead 
game. There are different kinds of game¬ 
ness and different ways of showing it—but 
truly no dog of any type or breed ever did 
anything much gamer than that. At least, 
when you consider all the circumstances and 
particularly the way she conducted herself. 

The next morning when I went to her, I 
found that Byrd’s eyelids were matted to¬ 
gether as tight as though they had been 
stuck with LePage’s glue. It was almost 
impossible to pry the lids apart. It was only 
by the use of warm water, softly applied with 
a sponge, that I was able at last to accom¬ 
plish this. I then took her to the doctor 
again and he treated her once more with the 
boracic acid. 

I could not hunt her the following day, 
but she went with me several other times 
during the remaining days of the pheasant 
season. The next time she went into rag¬ 
weed she did not suffer any further difficulty 
with her eyes, although, of course, I was 
mighty careful of her, especially for a while, 


HUNTING 


67 

and did not again let her hunt in this type of 
cover for so long at a stretch. The fields of 
standing corn furnished plenty of good hunt¬ 
ing anyhow and we frequented these. It 
soon seemed, however, as though she was 
beginning somehow to take better care of 
herself and to understand how to avoid get¬ 
ting the weed seeds into her eyes again, after 
that first experience. 

I don’t need any one to tell me whether or 
not Byrd is game. I’ve owned pit dogs my¬ 
self and seen them fight, and I want to say 
that, while their work calls for a different 
type of gameness, yet it is not greater than 
that shown by my little Red Setter when she 
kept right on doing her duty all day long 
without a fault or a flinch in spite of the pain 
she must have suffered. 


CHAPTER VI 

A SUCCESSFUL PHEASANT HUNT 


O N Saturday, the 25th of November, 
1922, the last day of the pheasant 
season, Byrd certainly covered her¬ 
self with glory. Her work was a sufficient 
reward for all my efforts and a justification 
of my simple methods of natural training. 
That day was one of the pleasantest in all 
my hunting experience and shall live always 
in my memory. 

The alarm clock sounded a little after 
three o’clock in the morning, inasmuch as 
our engagement was for 5:15 in Piqua, and 
we had to drive about twenty-eight miles to 
get there. I was anxious for at least a roll 
and a cup of coffee before leaving Dayton. 
Mr. Harvey J. King wanted to get material 
for some paintings of points on pheasants 
and I had invited him to be my guest for the 
day. It would be hard to express my disgust 
and dismay when I arrived at the King home 
68 


SUCCESSFUL PHEASANT HUNT 69 

that cold, dark morning and found no light 
at all, nor even any apparent way to arouse 
the artist. Failing in the effort, I finally 
went back to Sargent's restaurant and had 
some coffee, eggs and toast. I had become 
reconciled to making the trip to Piqua alone 
but was pretty provoked at the delay in¬ 
curred. 

Just as a sort of wild-goose-chase gamble, 
however, I drove by Mr. King's house on the 
chance that he might have arisen since I had 
last been there. This time I found a light! 
Mr. King himself answered my summons. 
The first reaction at seeing him only half 
dressed, when we should already have been 
well on our way to Piqua, was one of almost 
resentment—but this immediately passed 
away before his look of mingled bewilder¬ 
ment and regret. I have never seen a more 
mystified expression in my life. He had 
simply overslept and was still in a somewhat 
dazed condition, due, probably, to the early 
hour. His alarm clock either had failed him 
or he had slept right through its clatter. I 
suspected the latter, but did not say so. My 
impatience melted before his pathetic ex- 


;o BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

pression. I felt, furthermore, that sufficient 
punishment lay in my brusque statement 
that he couldn’t expect a bite of breakfast be¬ 
fore we reached Piqua. I called his attention 
to the time, and urged haste. He came 
through wonderfully and in a mighty few 
minutes we were all set and ready to go. 
And go we did. We left Mr. King’s house 
at exactly 4:30 in the morning and were due 
in Piqua, twenty-eight miles away, at 
promptly 5:15. That gave us only three- 
quarters of an hour. Yet it was just forty- 
five minutes later that I stopped the little 
bus in front of our meeting place by the 
Piqua post office. Of course the lack of 
traffic at that early hour had helped us make 
speed. 

The fellows in Piqua seemed almost dis¬ 
appointed that we got there on time. I be¬ 
lieve now that they scarcely thought we 
would. I think they rather had hoped to 
have an opportunity to josh us about prom¬ 
ising to be there at 5:15 and not making it. 
But the tables were turned. It gave us no 
little satisfaction to find, on arrival, that only 
one of the Piqua hunters was already wait- 


SUCCESSFUL PHEASANT HUNT 71 

ing and the other one did not arrive until 
some five minutes later. The fairly prompt 
connections all around gave us a chance to 
have our breakfast without haste and it 
wasn’t long before we were skipping along, 
headed for the shooting ground. We found 
quite a little snow east of Piqua, and it was 
just getting light when we arrived at the 
farm which was our destination. 

Byrd was the only dog in the party, but 
she proved equal to the task. I prize very 
highly a letter received a few days later from 
John Reymiller, one of the Piqua hunters, in 
which he compliments the little Setter and 
predicts for her a splendid future as a shoot¬ 
ing dog. She made an impression, as she 
has never failed to do, by her industry and 
by her good sense displayed in the finding 
and handling of the birds. Even though 
Byrd has since become a field-trial winner, 
bringing me several trophies, and many let¬ 
ters from all parts of the land, nevertheless 
the memory of those earlier days is just as 
bright as ever—though the promise she held 
out then has been fulfilled. 

Over one fence and across a short field 


72 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

from the barnyard we found ourselves in the 
thickest and best pheasant cover that it has 
ever been my fortune to see. The only 
trouble was the great effort it caused Byrd 
in her work. It was a terrible strain on her 
and very tiring the way she had to leap up 
and over the tangled masses of fallen clover 
matted with snow. 

We hadn’t gone very far before two birds 
got up in front of Mr. King and he missed 
delightfully with both barrels. There sure 
were pheasants in that patch of clover. 
Before we had gone the length of it each one 
of us, except John Reymiller, had been 
granted at least one shot. Pheasant cer¬ 
tainly carry away a lot of lead, so we will 
not attempt to prophesy here how many 
were clean misses. Suffice it to say that no 
birds were bagged. We crossed a rather 
open field where we had seen some of the 
pheasants fly and in a minute or two after 
going over that fence into an orchard bor¬ 
dering the field, Byrd made a pretty point. 
She held it nicely, but as we came up to her 
the bird fluttered up into an apple tree 
straight overhead. That was the funniest 


SUCCESSFUL PHEASANT HUNT 73 

performance the little Setter had ever seen, 
and she did not know what to make of it. 
This pheasant had previously been wounded 
and could not fly far. It was easily bagged. 

A 1 Hochwalt was asking me not long 
since about pheasant shooting and inquired 
as to the difficulty of bagging them as easily 
as their size would seem to warrant. He said 
that once at a field trial out in the northwest 
an old quail shot spoke lightly of pheasant 
shooting. They asked him how many he 
thought he could hit and he replied that if 
he could not kill ten straight he would buy 
the dinner for the crowd. The wager was 
promptly accepted and a hunt arranged for 
the following day. After missing the first 
three straight he old quail shooter gave up 
further effort in disgust—and paid the bet. 
I have seen fellows who can pretty regu¬ 
larly knock them cold—but it isn’t quite as 
easy as rolling off a log. 

From the orchard we entered directly into 
a very wide expanse of splendid cover, across 
which we tramped four abreast with Byrd 
quartering the field diligently in front of 
us. Yet we crossed this entire field without 


74 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

putting up one single bird. At the far end, 
when we came to the high wire fence that 
bordered it, we stood for a few moments in 
some indecision as to the most likely direc¬ 
tion in which to launch our next effort. 

While we were still thus conversing, my 
attention was suddenly called to as pretty a 
point as the heart might wish to see. Byrd 
was crowded right up against the edge of 
the fence, which also was the edge of the 
best cover, and she was not forty feet from 
where we stood. I just knew she had some¬ 
thing—she had never failed me nor fooled 
me whenever she straightened out into one 
of her characteristic points. I was as con¬ 
fident that there was either a pheasant or a 
covey of quail in front of her, as I would 
have been could I actually have seen what¬ 
ever it was with my own eyes. 

Regardless of what I might have expected, 
however, I was not prepared for what 
greeted me when I walked in to flush. It is 
true that down on the Watkins’ farm, while 
training before the season opened, we did 
flush a splendid covey of a dozen or more 
pheasants which rose as simultaneously as a 



There zvill never be better cover for quail than the protected corners afforded by the 
old-fashioned rail fence of days gone by. There are not so many to be seen to-day in 
certain sections of the country — hence, Horace Lytle feels especially pleased to have 
this particular picture of Spiada Byrd with such a fence for the border and background 

of its setting. 
























SUCCESSFUL PHEASANT HUNT 75 

covey of quail. But not once during the 
actual pheasant season had we flushed more 
than two pheasants from the same spot at 
the same time, until this very last day. 
Yet it was a covey that Byrd had in front of 
her then. At least six or eight splendid 
pheasants rose at one time and tore like the 
wind on their speedy wings across the open 
space. Verily do I believe, had but one or 
two birds gotten up, that I should have 
nailed at least one of them. But I was not 
expecting so many and when they all flushed 
at once I was simply swept off my feet— 
and missed them all! 

The other fellows were laughing so hard 
they could not talk and I was in the same 
fix from embarrassment. It surely must 
have been a sore disappointment to Byrd to 
make a find and stand such as that, only to 
have it result in naught. She did a splen¬ 
did job, no matter how much her master 
messed it up. 

We worked for some little time after that 
before running into any more birds at all. 
After a bit, however, Byrd began “making 
game”—but she was unable to bring this 


76 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

pheasant to a stand. All of a sudden it 
flushed wild almost out of range—and then 
it was that we had a chance to discover there 
was one real shot in the party anyhow. John 
Reymiller was the hero on this occasion. 
It was a long shot, but he bagged the bird. 
This was the first time John had pulled trig¬ 
ger that day, but after that first shot there 
was nothing to the party but Reymiller. Up 
to that time none of the pheasants had gotten 
up in front of him. After that they didn’t 
get up in front of any one else; which was 
mighty stupid of the pheasants, for the rest 
of us might have missed them—John Rey¬ 
miller never missed any. 

But to return to that first long try which 
broke the ice for John that day—it was cer¬ 
tainly a pretty effort and the result was a 
thrillingly fine reward for a splendid shot. 
The bird, however, was only wing tipped 
and started off like a race horse the minute 
it hit the ground. We had the treat of 
our lives watching Byrd chasing to retrieve 
it. It is like finding a needle in a haystack 
to bag a wounded pheasant without the help 
of a good dog. The little Setter’s tail 


SUCCESSFUL PHEASANT HUNT 77 

waved merrily as she followed what her 
nose told her was the pheasant's trail. Soon 
she caught it and right proudly did she bring 
back to us the splendid feathered monarch 
held easily between her dainty jaws. Then 
she did a strange thing, showing the intelli¬ 
gence of some dogs—she took that bird 
straight up to John Reymiller, who had shot 
it, and never thought of bringing it to me at 
all. Usually a dog will do just the reverse 
of this and retrieve all game to his master 
only, regardless of who kills it—but Smada 
Byrd has always been an exception to the 
rule. 

To digress for a minute, however, the 
trouble with shooting as well as our friend 
from Piqua is that your fun is over too soon. 
Here it was the last day of the season—the 
last chance to shoot pheasants for a whole 
year—yet John had shot three times (which 
meant that he had the limit of three cock 
birds in his bag) and was in a machine on his 
way back to Piqua before the fun for the rest 
of us had hardly begun. We still had the bet¬ 
ter part of a day of splendid sport ahead of 
us—yet he was all through in a couple of 


78 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

hours and had the whole dreary day ahead 
of him with nothing to do for a year, so far 
as pheasants were concerned. About three 
weeks later, however, John's wedding was 
announced—which information may throw 
some light on his speed with the pheasants 
and his subsequent haste to get back to 
town. 

In regard to Byrd's work that day, let it 
be said that she at least “made game" on 
every pheasant we got. Not that she 
brought each one to a dead stand—though 
she did bring all but two of them to that 
desired result. This record was something 
of an achievement for any dog, let alone a 
mere puppy in her first season. It is pretty 
hard to prevent pheasants from flushing 
wild. Thus I have come to feel that, in 
many ways, a good dog on pheasants gives 
you more thrills than is the case with any 
other game. Pheasants carry away so much 
shot, hence there are so many brought out 
of the air that are merely wing tipped and 
run like the mischief, that the work of re¬ 
trieving these cripples is most exciting. Fur¬ 
thermore, it is such a nice and delicate art 


SUCCESSFUL PHEASANT HUNT 79 

to bring this wary and tricky bird to an 
actual stand—that successful performance 
by a dog in this respect is something to be 
heralded as a real accomplishment in the 
course of a day’s sport. 

After our star shooter had left, we did not 
chance upon any more pheasants during the 
forenoon, although Byrd made a stand on a 
dandy covey of quail at the edge of a thick 
woods. It would be hard to describe her 
perfectly apparent disappointment as I 
flushed that covey in front of her and failed 
to shoot. She seemed to say: “Well, if 
you’re not even going to try to get them 
when I find them, what’s the use!” Dogs 
are often mighty particular about what takes 
place as a result of the work they do. They 
often lose interest if their work doesn’t 
seem to be properly bearing fruit. I have 
never personally seen it, but I have it on good 
authority, that dogs have even been known 
to refuse to keep on hunting if too many 
shots are missed over their points. I can 
well believe it, for “They think too,” you 
know, and they like their good work to be 
matched by equally good work with the gun. 


CHAPTER VII 
WONDERFUL WORK 


HE farmer on whose land we 



hunted joined us in the afternoon, 


taking John Reymiller’s place, and 


we got four cock pheasants among the party, 
three of which furnished particularly good 
dog work. We were walking four abreast 
through the same field in which that morn¬ 
ing Byrd had pointed the whole flock of 
pheasants, when suddenly a cock bird flushed 
wild and flew directly broadside to our party, 
thus giving each one a shot in turn. 

Mr. King brought him down—but the 
minute he struck the ground was off like a 
streak of greased lightning. I raced after 
him like a wild Indian. He started turning 
to the left and quickly disappeared in the 
weeds. Byrd, who was ahead of me, 
wheeled and shot straight down the field in 
the opposite direction. Her little tail was 


80 


WONDERFUL WORK 


81 


wagging so enthusiastically and confiden¬ 
tially that I realized she was trailing hot. I 
could not seem to believe that the pheasant 
had turned to go in that direction, because 
the best cover for him lay to the left in the 
direction which he had started. But I real¬ 
ized, too, that my Setter’s nose was a lot 
better than my ideas and so I followed her 
on the run. She must have trailed that bird 
between three and four hundred yards. Sud¬ 
denly she reached down—and when her head 
was raised again she held between her jaws 
the gorgeous colored pheasant which, but 
for her splendid work, would surely have 
escaped for good. My heart was pumping 
mighty fast as the little dog came to me with 
the prize. 

Just a little later we saw almost this same 
experience duplicated. The difference was 
merely sufficient to add variation and in¬ 
terest. We were in another field when Byrd 
came to a point in front of two of the worst 
shots in the party. There did not seem to 
be much likelihood that the bird would be 
bagged. You can’t always tell, however, 
and after a blaze of artillery as the pheasant 


82 


BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


arose, it was seen that one of them had acci¬ 
dently hit it. The big bird wasn’t hit very 
hard, however. It dropped in an opposite 
field which was separated from the one we 
were in by a particularly substantial wire 
fence, so closely woven that the dog could 
not get through. Over this fence the two 
shooters scurried like squirrels, each one 
claiming that he had hit the bird. I was 
amused as I watched them; and this amuse¬ 
ment only increased when they eventually 
turned back, very much crestfallen, after 
having roamed that field in all directions 
without being able to locate the pheasant 
which one or both of them had brought out 
of the air. 

All this time I had kept Byrd back with 
me, as I would not permit her to get over the 
fence into the field where those boobs were 
roaming wild. Finally, in desperation, they 
appealed to me and wanted to know why I 
hadn’t sent the dog over. I just waited pa¬ 
tiently until they realized beyond all doubt 
that the pheasant was unquestionably lost 
so far as they were concerned. Then I put 
Byrd over the fence, and it was beautiful to 


WONDERFUL WORK 83 

see her pick up the trail. She covered that 
whole field in a wide circle and then came 
straight back toward us. Pheasants will do 
that—double right back on you—and you 
will lose them unless you have a dog such as 
we were blessed with that day. 

Pretty soon Byrd came to a dead stand. 
As I went to her I could see the pheasant fac¬ 
ing her, squatted low and blending splen¬ 
didly into the surroundings. It was such an 
interesting spectacle that I watched the dog 
hold the point thus for a minute or two. 
Then I backed up and walked around to the 
rear of the pheasant, when I stuck out my 
foot and touched his tail feathers. There 
was immediately a terrific rush of wings as 
he tried to bound into the air straight over 
Byrd’s head. But she was too fast for him! 
With one quick leap she grabbed him before 
he could get away and held him firmly, yet 
carefully, until I came up and took him from 
her. Thus she had, in the space of but a few 
moments, trailed one bird that would have 
got away, caught it while still running 
and brought it back to me; then in the very 
next field she had duplicated the perform- 


84 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

ance, ending this time by bringing the pheas¬ 
ant to a stand so that she was able to 
accomplish a beautiful point and thus furnish 
an interesting variation in the work. One 
thing should be added here for the benefit 
of the novice. I spoke of Byrd grabbing the 
pheasant when I flushed it from her point. 
She should not have done this had the pheas¬ 
ant not been wounded; but dogs should be 
permitted thus to attempt to retrieve 
wounded game—and their nose enables 
them to detect the blood if a bird has been 
hit. Of course Byrd was also aware of that 
fact in this case from seeing it fall and trail¬ 
ing it afterwards. 

We were treated to one more particularly 
pretty piece of work before the day was over 
—the day which closed the season on pheas¬ 
ants in Ohio for an entire year. We were 
making one last drive through the clover 
patch nearest the farmer’s house, as we 
knew there were still some pheasants in 
there that we had not flushed. We were 
all amused at Mr. King, who had just pre¬ 
viously stated vehemently that he would not 
make another trip through that sweet clover 


WONDERFUL WORK 85 

to save his life. He did make that last trip, 
however, as I knew he would, for he is a 
thorough sportsman in every sense of the 
word. It was hard walking; the tangled 
masses coming at times almost to one’s 
waist, and being matted down with the 
snowfall of the night before made it all the 
tougher to tramp through. But it was much 
harder on the little Irish Setter than it was 
on us. She was tired almost to utter ex¬ 
haustion—yet she would not quit while 
there was still work to do. 

Pretty soon we noticed that she was 
“making game.” It was terribly difficult 
for her to get through those tangled masses; 
and yet she must get through in order to 
make her point. She dared not go too fast 
nor get too close for fear she might flush 
the bird. The pheasant was moving and that 
but made her work the harder. Her man¬ 
euvering to bring that bird to a stand—her 
efforts to do it without a flush—and the way 
she finally accomplished it—would have 
been a credit even to an experienced pheas¬ 
ant dog. Time after time she came to a 
stop—and time after time went on. But 


86 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


with her every effort to make a stand came 
the realization that the bird was still mov¬ 
ing. Finally she dared not work closer 
straight ahead. It became necessary to 
back up very carefully and make a cast to 
right or left and come in again. I think she 
must have pointed at least six or eight times 
—only to back up and work in again from a 
new angle before she forced that pheasant 
to stop so she could make a sturdy stand. 

Mr. King remarked particularly about 
Byrd’s splendid head work in this instance 
and that was most gratifying to me, for I 
knew that he has seen dogs work for almost 
fifty years, all over this country, from Maine 
to Florida, and even on the far-away Dakota 
prairies in the old days. These compliments 
were especially appreciated later when I re¬ 
alized beyond all doubt that Mr. King meant 
what he said—for, in relating the experiences 
of our shoot to my boy, he dwelt at some 
length upon his description of that particular 
incident, explaining it all in careful detail so 
that the boy might both understand and ap¬ 
preciate the quality of the performance. It 
was unquestionably a delicate job well done. 







•J? xz 

+ — r* ** 

£> ^ 

S >.2 ~ 

G Ci 


Si <3 Si 

*•*». *s 

-^3 <3 

^ ^ ^ 
• r 3 «*^! ^ 

H—^ ^ 

2 

* ^ 2 
^ s t-* 

*^r ^*> 
^ ^3 ^ 

Z^ fS* 

a a £ 

Sj *S3 


o > 




<o 5 ^ 
"■*-- C2 


vj 

£ ^> 


c 

Q 

<o 

<o 

O 


O ^ 



?*> 


«_. " 3 * ^ 

H—* 




- O 

ll 


s I 

H-* g 



o ^0 

•S*o 


~e 

2 -> 
— a 

*e 3 

C O 


* * 
5 - "ts 

^ -c: 

h^t u 
^s 

C *> 

J? ^2 


^ O . 

«•< 

*■* <-*3 

£ § 


H’s 


r ^ 
t*l *C> 




•<T~ 














WONDERFUL WORK 87 

The least misstep in that mass of tangled 
clover would have been fatal to the result 
as accomplished. 

It had been indeed a glorious day and on 
our ride back to Dayton we found much 
pleasure in rehearsing the events which I 
have just been describing. We both came 
to the conclusion that it had been the most 
enjoyable pheasant hunt in which either of 
us had ever participated. And there is no 
question but that it was a day which would 
be hard to beat. I will but add that the trip 
from Piqua to Dayton that night was not 
made in forty-five minutes as had the trip 
from Dayton to Piqua that morning. 


CHAPTER VIII 
STEADYING TO SHOT AND WING 


S OON after the pheasant season closed 
in Ohio, I packed up again for some 
more quail shooting. Up to this 
time all of my efforts with Byrd had been 
bent chiefly upon the finding and pointing 
of game. From now on must occur the little 
refinements and the straightening out of in¬ 
consistencies in her work so as to turn her 
into a fully finished shooting dog. The first 
thing I noticed when we got back on quail 
was that she was “breaking shot” badly. 
She found and pointed her coveys in good 
shape, but the minute we would flush and 
shoot, away she would go like the wind after 
them. Of course, this was not to be toler¬ 
ated. It can cause you a lot of trouble, 
especially when among scattered birds. Sev¬ 
eral times when we had birds scattered, and 
she would make a point, and on flush would 
88 


STEADYING TO SHOT 89 

break shot and chase, it happened that her 
chasing accidentally flushed other birds out 
of range so that we did not get a shot. That 
is, her headlong flight carried her into other 
birds before she realized it, so intent was 
she upon those she was chasing. This very 
thing is one of the chief objections to a dog 
that is not steady to shot and wing—aside 
from the fact that it is undignified and not 
becoming to a thoroughly broken dog. A 
gentleman likes to have his shooting dog 
perfectly broken in all respects, and takes 
pride in that fact. He doesn’t want a wild, 
irresponsible, rattle-brained idiot tearing in¬ 
discriminately about every time birds are 
raised. It is very ill-bred. But the real 
harm is done in the instances such as I have 
mentioned where it results in accidental 
flushing of other birds at which the hunter 
gets no shots. 

Up to the time we started shooting pheas¬ 
ants over her, Byrd had been steady to shot 
and wing—it had been perfectly natural with 
her, after she had finally become steady on 
her points, to remain steady to both shot 
and wing. It occurred to me immediately 


90 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

what now caused her unsteadiness. It was 
all brought about on that last day of pheas¬ 
ant shooting. We had encouraged her to 
start chasing wounded birds so quickly that 
it had spoiled her steadiness. A pheasant 
is so often brought out of the air and yet 
not stopped dead that she got to looking 
for all birds to start running the minute 
they hit the ground—and her line of thought 
was that the sooner she got started after 
them, the better. So far as the pheasants 
were concerned, it didn’t matter so much, 
but it certainly was the wrong way to handle 
quail. In fact, I hadn’t even noticed it on 
the pheasants and was rather surprised 
when I took her back on quail and saw her 
unsteadiness to shot and wing. 

Now the way that is often the best to 
steady dogs down in this respect, is to put 
a check cord on them, and when they come 
to a point let them chase—and throw them¬ 
selves when they reach the end of the cord. 
Once or twice of this will usually accom¬ 
plish the desired result. A third lesson is 
but seldom required. As I have already ex¬ 
plained, however, it was impossible to use a 


STEADYING TO SHOT 


9i 

check cord on Byrd with any satisfactory re¬ 
sults. Consequently, it was a case of cor¬ 
recting her simply by persuasion. When I 
became assured after several trials that she 
was bound to chase each covey or single that 
arose, I called her to me and took her head 
between my hands and made her look right 
straight into my eyes; then I talked to her. 
That's one thing you must do when talking 
seriously to dogs. Always make them look 
you right in the eyes . Don’t let them avoid 
you. This is just as important in talking 
to a dog as it is in talking seriously to a 
person. A dog may not understand every 
word that you use—but he will get a mighty 
big percentage of the fundamental idea. 
The eyes help to convey the intention. 

Every time she pointed, and before shoot- 
ting I would first say “Whoa” to Byrd and 
thus caution her to be careful and let her 
know in advance that I expected her to stick 
where she was. If you don’t try to stop 
them until they’ve broken away, they’re 
pretty apt to keep right on going heedless of 
your commands. In fact, in their excite¬ 
ment they very likely don’t even hear you. 


92 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

But if you get in your words of caution be¬ 
fore they make the break it helps a lot, and 
often is all that is needed. 

This soon accomplished the purpose de¬ 
sired in Byrd’s case and she became as 
steady and nice as you please at all times. 
Of course I am inclined to believe (as every 
one believes about his children and his 
dogs) that my Irish Setter is somewhat 
above the ordinary—but I do also in all 
honesty believe that this lies largely in the 
confidence I have created in her and the 
understanding which has been brought about 
by the comradeship that exists between us. 
And I believe that any one else who starts 
out right by establishing a basis of confidence 
and comradeship with his dog will be able 
to accomplish results along the same lines 
that have worked out so well for me. When¬ 
ever Byrd, for instance, would chase a rab¬ 
bit, I would call her to me and hold her head 
so that her eyes looked right into mine and 
then I would say, “Why, Byrdie, what do 
you mean, what do you mean? I thought 
you were a bird dog, not a hound. Let the 
beagles chase the rabbits, but you find the 


STEADYING TO SHOT 


93 


birds.” The tone of my voice would indi¬ 
cate so surely my disappointment that she 
was invariably thereafter mighty careful not 
to give me cause for sorrow any more 
than she could possibly help. And it didn’t 
take long for her to ignore rabbits almost 
entirely. Of course Byrd by this time had 
reached the age when the chasing of rabbits 
was no longer to be looked upon lightly. 
Right here, in connection with rabbits, let me 
urge the novice not to be unduly worried at 
the interest your dog is bound to show in 
rabbits. The hunting dog is fundamentally 
as fond of fur as of feathers. Let your pup¬ 
pies chase rabbits to their hearts’ content. 
The development of the hunting instinct is 
the big main idea—not the ability to distin¬ 
guish one kind of game from another. That 
can come later. Keenness is what you want 
above all else in a youngster, so don’t by any 
means dull his so-much-desired wire edge by 
restraining his natural eagerness to chase 
fur. Instead, you’d better be glad he’s so 
interested. 

While on the subject of steadying to shot 
and wing, I will mention a scheme that I 


94 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

believe has never before been made public 
property. It deals with the plan used by 
a prominent field-trial trainer. The first 
part is the same as usual—to fasten a check 
cord to the dog when on point. The han¬ 
dler's assistant then holds the other end of 
the cord, or else it can be tied to a stake 
driven in the ground. After the dog is thus 
secured, this trainer's plan is to rush by the 
dog and flush, making all the noise and ex¬ 
citement he can and firing as he flushes. 
That's how he gets his dogs to the point 
where he can take plenty of time after flush¬ 
ing birds and firing; and it also makes a dog 
steady before a field-trial crowd. After a 
while the dog gets so that all you have to do 
is to twitch at his collar as you go up, so that 
he thinks he is being fastened, and soon he 
will become so steady that even this is not 
necessary. This little method of refinement 
may come in handy some day and I am 
pleased to pass it on. It is authentic and 
should prove to be a really valuable tip in 
breaking a bird dog and making him abso¬ 
lutely steady to shot and wing. 

And now, speaking of tips, here's another, 


STEADYING TO SHOT 95 

for which I am indebted to a friend from 
Kansas City, who says: 

I am sending you herewith some of the kodaks 
just taken by a trainer who is specializing by hand¬ 
ling only a limited string of shooting dogs. 

I believe I told you about the 65-pound pointer 
bitch which he uses as an assistant instructor, and 
which he has trained to handle another dog coupled 
to her collar. He uses a choke collar on the pupil, 
when necessary, and has a short steel chain coupler, 
with a swivel in the center, and a swivel snap on each 
end to attach to collars. A pup inclined to be bird- 
shy, gun-shy, or not steady, is coupled to this big 
pointer, which is strong enough to hold almost any 
dog. The pup can’t leave—has to stay and see the 
show, and a few lessons are all he needs before 
he becomes interested and works on his own initia¬ 
tive. 

In the pictures, the larger bitch is the “instructor.” 
The smaller one was gun-shy and bird-shy—had 
good range and speed, but used it only on rabbits. 
She is shown in the picture coupled to Queen, and 
later pointing and backing after five lessons from 
Queen, the instructor. 

Returning now to the breaking of Byrd, 
that quail trip gave rise to another weak- 


96 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

ness, besides breaking shot, that I had to 
figure out how to overcome before she could 
be considered as finished for an all-around 
shooting dog. For no conceivable reason 
at all, other than a feminine whim, she one 
day refused to retrieve a bird that I had shot. 
This provoked me, and I took her to the 
quail and picked it up and put it to her 
mouth and held it there, telling her to 
“Fetch.” I was a little bit sharper with her 
than usual—and the net result was that I 
had just the devil’s own time trying to get 
her to retrieve at all again. I fear I was a 
little hasty and became severe with her be¬ 
fore making absolutely sure beyond all 
doubt that she understood exactly what it 
was she had done wrong. So she played 
safe by not retrieving at all, since it was 
that in connection with which she had got 
into trouble. This very situation brought 
out the one greatest evil likely to result 
from teaching to retrieve by any other than 
the force system. You have no way to com¬ 
pel obedience when it is not freely and 
voluntarily given; so I urge the reader par¬ 
ticularly to be sure to teach force retrieving 


STEADYING TO SHOf 97 

carefully, using the McCullagh system out¬ 
lined in an earlier chapter. 

In the case of Byrd, however, she had too 
much fundamental good sense to do wrong 
continually, and the way I corrected this 
retrieving fault in her was by working her 
as much as possible with other dogs that 
were splendid retrievers; and it was not very 
difficult to make her jealous of the praise I 
gave the other dogs when they retrieved the 
birds. In order to get some of this praise 
herself, she one day ran to a dead quail and 
brought it back to me. From then on 
everything was all right again, because I 
immediately made it evident to her in every 
possible way how pleased I was. We under¬ 
stood each other—and to the date of this 
writing there have been no further failures to 
retrieve. I can only add that during her 
second season Byrd developed into an ex¬ 
ceptionally efficient retriever, of quail in par¬ 
ticular, and now has a record of much good 
work in this line to her credit. 


CHAPTER IX 

A LITTLE CANINE PSYCHOLOGY 


J UST a little while ago I laid down the 
March, 1923, issue of the American 
Magazine, having finished a most en¬ 
tertaining article by Mr. Keene Sumner, 
reporting some of the chief theories of Larry 
Trimble on canine psychology and the train¬ 
ing of dogs for the different duties they may 
be called upon to perform. It was Trimble 
who trained the now famous “Strongheart” 
to take the leading part in that splendid 
screen production, “The Silent Call.” His 
theories so coincide with my own—and the 
basic fundamentals are so surely the same, 
whether it be breaking bird dogs for the 
field or shepherds for the screen—that I be¬ 
lieve nothing I might say could have more 
value than just to requote some sayings of 
Mr. Trimble’s from Keene Sumner’s article. 
He says: 


98 



Instructor and Pupil (First Lesson) 


Above (to the right ) is shown the stanch big 65-pound pointer 
bitch referred to in the tip from Kansas City. 



Instructor and Pupil (Later Lessons) 

The same bitch with her same pupil as shown above, but the 
pupil 11010 being perfectly stanch herself and an enthusiastic 
worker. 

















CANINE PSYCHOLOGY 99 

You know, it’s funny that human beings seem to 
forget that they are animals, too. Intellectually, we 
have gone far beyond other animals. We have 
learned to control our primitive impulses—but they 
are there, just the same. 

A grown dog, like Strongheart, is very much like 
a child ten or twelve years old. He obeys some 
outside authority. He may do this through fear; 
or he may do it through respect, affection, and con¬ 
fidence. But the obedience that comes through fear 
is absolutely unreliable. A dog who is afraid of 
his master is like a child who is afraid of his parents; 
he obeys only so long as he is in danger of punish¬ 
ment. The first good chance he gets, he will follow 
his own impulses. 

Of course, there is individuality among animals, 
just as there is among human beings. Strongheart, 
for instance, has an innate dignity and depth of feel¬ 
ing that are as fine as anything I have encountered 
in a human being. All animals have a greater sense 
of personal dignity than we give them credit for. I 
have seen people treat animals in a way that made me 
cringe, because I knew that the animal felt humili¬ 
ated. 

Never ridicule an animal. Never laugh at his 
mistakes. Never play practical jokes on him. Never 
put him in a position where he feels foolish and 
embarrassed. Play with him—yes, but always make 
it a mutual affair. Let him see that it is just as 



ioo BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


much his fun as yours. Never sneer at him. If he 
doesn’t understand you, and so does a thing wrongly, 
don’t make him feel that he is a fool. 

Never lie to an animal. Never fail to carry out 
your threats or your promises. There, again, you 
have a fundamental principle of human psychology. 
You cannot control an animal if he does not believe 
in you. Strongheart will do anything I tell him to 
because I never have betrayed his faith in me. Some¬ 
times he will hesitate and look up at me, as if to 
say, “Did I understand you? Do you really mean 
what I thought you said?” When I repeat the 
command he seems to say, “Oh, you did mean it! 
That’s all right. I just wanted to be sure.” 

Never teach an animal to depend on graft. I 
don’t bribe an animal to do a thing. I don’t give 
Strongheart a reward for carrying out a command; 
not a material reward, such as food. He does it 
solely because he wants my approval. He will look 
up at me questioningly, as if he said, “Was that what 
you wanted? Did I do it right?” If I smile and 
look pleased he fairly quivers with pleasure. 

Of course you can get a kind of service out of 
either animals or human beings by bribing them—if 
you care for that kind of service. I don’t! It isn’t 
really good service, anyway. Strongheart will do 
more, just to please me, than I ever saw a dog do in 
order to get food. It is just the same with human 


CANINE PSYCHOLOGY ioi 

beings. They would starve, if it came to that, for 
some one they love supremely. 

When Strongheart makes a mistake, I don’t rail 
at him or strike him. I know he meant to do it 
right. He just didn’t understand. When he sees, 
by my expression, that he has failed to satisfy me, 
his expression is almost tragic. It is up to me to 
show him where he was wrong. Kicking and cuss¬ 
ing wouldn’t explain it to him. He would be more 
confused than ever. Isn’t that human psychology, 
too? 

In those last sentences of Mr. Trimble’s 
you have, I believe, one of the real essen¬ 
tials for the right sort of results in any kind 
of work with a dog. Mr. Trimble says that, 
except when it is absolutely necessary to be 
otherwise, Strongheart is always with him. 
The more you are with your dog, the greater 
the companionship developed between you, 
the greater will be the understanding and 
the love, and the greater the understanding 
and love between you, just so much greater 
will be the results that the dog gives you in 
what you are anxious for him to do. The 
interesting thing, to me, about the foregoing 
quotations is that my manuscript thus far 


102 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


had been written before I had ever even 
heard of Mr. Trimble, and hence it is natu¬ 
rally with particular pleasure that I have 
read his utterances which so ably express my 
own ideas and beliefs. 

Pursuing further the subject of psy¬ 
chology as applied to dogs, it has occurred 
to me that nothing would more fittingly 
complete this chapter than the following 
quotations from an article by my good 
friend G. H. Macdougall, published in the 
January, 1923, issue of a magazine of whose 
Dog Department I was at that time editor. 

One often reads comments on the mysterious way 
animals convey information to each other. Of 
course, they have cries, the significance of some of 
which we readily understand. Who can mistake the 
meaning when an old hen shouts “Hawk!” But 
when a bunch of animals stampede, and another 
bunch at a distance follows suit, how do they make 
it unanimous? They do; every one knows that. 
The answer is pantomime. Actions speak louder 
than words. Pricked ears and intent posture in one 
make the rest look for the reason. Isn’t there 
thought here that some way explains the action of 
pointing and backing in bird dogs ? 


CANINE PSYCHOLOGY 


103 

I won’t waste time arguing that animals reason. 
Certainly they do, about things that come within the 
circle of their cognizance, and just as well as we do. 
Our circle is larger, that is all the difference; enor¬ 
mously larger in the case of an educated, cultivated 
human mind—not so wonderfully different in that 
of a primitive savage. 

Some years ago a friend called my attention to a 
magazine article about an investigation of the case 
of a clever dog which gave the answers to simple 
arithmetical problems by picking up a card with the 
proper number on it. This was a spaniel, trained 
by a lady of some prominence, socially, purely as an 
amusement. My friend told me the conclusion 
reached was that it was done by telepathy. I de¬ 
murred, maintaining that pantomime must be the ex¬ 
planation. We got the magazine, and it proved that 
he had read the concluding paragraph carelessly, as 
one often does, and had missed the point. I was 
right. 

This was an interesting case. The lady gave the 
dog no signal that she was aware of. She had no 
idea how he picked out the right card. Her con¬ 
nection with it, so far as she knew, was to give him 
a piece of cooky when he was right, and to say 
“Hurry up; hurry up”; when he hesitated. At such 
times he would bark impatiently, a circumstance indi¬ 
cating to me that he wanted the signal made plainer. 


104 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

The lady was invited to come to Cornell University, 
which she did, making two visits of about a month 
each, and submitted to all the tests the Psychological 
Department could devise. 

The numbered cards were strewn on a rug; the 
lady knelt at one side of it and the dog stood at the 
other. His average of correct answers was nor¬ 
mally about eighty-five per cent or a little better, far, 
far above the possibilities of chance. After a little 
they put a low screen before her, hiding her hands 
and her body up to approximately the waist line. 
The dog’s average of correctness fell at first, then 
slowly came back to nearly normal. 

Then they used a higher screen, concealing all but 
her head and neck. His average fell way down, but 
improved somewhat, although it did not get back to 
much more than half his normal average. Re¬ 
storing the lower screen, it jumped to about 
normal right away. Photographs were taken, even 
motion pictures, without avail, until one photo hap¬ 
pened to show a little more plainly the very faint 
signal the dog was guided by—the slight involuntary 
movement of the lady’s head and her fixed gaze 
toward the proper card. Once noticed, the same 
slight movement was detected in other photos. 

Personally, I never saw an animal respond with 
any certainty to such a faint signal, though I judged 
a competition of trick dogs once and gave first prize 


CANINE PSYCHOLOGY 


105 

to a pointer dog that did the same trick. His signal 
was that his handler held one of the cards in his 
hand, as if from forgetfulness, and kept clicking the 
corner of it with his thumb-nail when the dog’s head 
was near the desired card, stopping the click when 
he began to get “cold,” as the children say in hide 
and seek. I nearly got licked by an excitable little 
Englishman, whose dog really knew three or four 
articles by name. I taught a dog this latter trick 
when I was a boy, and therefore knew just how diffi¬ 
cult it was to teach one to refrain from picking up 
the wrong card, merely by ceasing this almost in¬ 
audible clicking. 

Any spirited retriever will pick up any old thing 
with the greatest glee, given a chance, and can be 
taught the difference between a few articles. My 
dog knew five—hat, whip, handkerchief, key ring 
and coin. 

I know well that my dogs take hints from my ac¬ 
tions and attitudes, as they do from those of their 
kennel mates. I take advantage of this in the early 
stages of training. When teaching one to “Whoa,” 
I stop myself; to drop, I squat down; to turn to 
hand, I run a few steps in the desired direction. If 
I stop suddenly in an attitude of attention, my dogs 
stop and half back me if close by; if a little way off 
they hustle back to see what I have found. If I 
carry my gun at the “ready,” walking slowly, they 


io6 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


come in close and quarter carefully; if I throw it 
over my shoulder and strike out at my usual gait, 
they conclude that I was mistaken in supposing that 
birds were near and swing off at their usual hunt¬ 
ing pace. They all do this, more or less, my old 
Babe more decidedly than any I ever owned. 

Backing is an acknowledgment of the signal con¬ 
veyed by the attitude of the pointing dog, sometimes 
aided by scent, if the backing dog happens to be in 
a position to get a faint whiff. Most dogs recognize 
the difference between the tense position of a true 
point and the lax attitude of one pointing old scent, 
or whose birds have run or flown. In the latter case 
they are inclined to crowd in and try the scent for 
themselves. 

Old Babe never will back a strange dog or a 
puppy until he has made enough true points to con¬ 
vince her that he can be trusted. Until then she 
simply walks in and does it for herself. Always an 
independent little huzzy, she really prefers to do that 
anyway. 

Pity they can’t talk! Well, they can, and do, if 
one observes them closely enough; and if one makes 
a habit of responding to the gentle hints they give, 
they will talk more. The way to housebreak a dog 
is to watch very closely at first and let him out at 
the slightest indication of his desire. He will no¬ 
tice this in a few days and make the hint plainer. 


CHAPTER X 

FURTHER FACTS AND ANECDOTES 
OU will encounter all sorts of un¬ 



usual experiences in work with a 


dog. There was, for instance, the 
day my wife ’phoned my office in great con¬ 
sternation and told me that Byrd had come 
home with a quail in her mouth which she 
had evidently caught herself! My poor 
wife didn’t know whether she should take 
the bird away from the dog or not. While 
we were still discussing it, she suddenly an¬ 
nounced that the little Setter had started to 
eat the quail—which performance she could 
see going on through the window. 

That noon at the Club I mentioned the cir¬ 
cumstance to a number of old timers present, 
and almost all of them expressed surprise 
that I was not more worried over the af¬ 
fair. Regardless of their opinions, however, 
I couldn’t be convinced that it was so ter- 


io 8 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


rible—so, in order to back up the position I 
had taken, I wrote to my good friend “Uncle 
Mac” out at Spokane. I knew that what¬ 
ever he might say would be correct—and 
that he would be equally frank whether he 
agreed with me or not. Here is his reply 
verbatim: 

The little bitch did exactly right to eat the quail. 
What else would you have her do with a nice morsel 
like that and no one to tell her Nay? No dogs really 
have any morals about food. You may teach them 
not to help themselves when you are looking, but the 
best of them are apt to forget, just like a child, if 
something good is left within their reach and no one 
by to caution them. I once had a lovely little grey¬ 
hound bitch, mild and sweet and absolutely well be¬ 
haved, except that she would swipe anything to eat 
if she got a chance. Every once in a while she could 
not resist temptation with respect to food. In every 
other way she was a perfect lady. Once my wife 
had set some chops on a platter, ready to put on the 
table, on the front of the stove to keep them warm 
a minute while she dished the vegetables or some¬ 
thing. She had scarcely turned her back when 
Fannie quickly licked the platter clean. The Missus 
was mad for a minute, then said, “Well, poor Fan¬ 
nie, she can’t help it.” 


FACTS AND ANECDOTES 109 

I have often given puppies quail heads to 
eat, to make them “birdy” and keen to hunt, 
and I have never yet had any permanent ill 
effects from this practice. Quite to the con¬ 
trary, in fact. 

You will be very much more fortunate 
than some of us if your young bird dog shows 
no inclination to kill chickens. Yet it goes 
without saying that the finished dog must 
be taught to let all poultry severely alone— 
or else you will be given many causes for 
worry, or worse, for most farmers have 
chickens, and a hunter's dog must not molest 
them. I had some experience with Byrd in 
the matter of chickens when she was quite 
young. It came to a head when she actually 
killed a chicken and was caught in the 
act—thus convincing me that she had 
killed several of which I had been sus¬ 
picious. 

I took the chicken she had killed and tied 
it to her neck so securely that she could not 
possibly get it off. I used a stout cord and 
wound it tightly about both the chicken and 
her collar. Never was a dog so humiliated. 
It proved a very severe punishment for one 


no BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

of her delicate sensibilities. She could not 
get rid of the now loathsome chicken and I 
put her in the kennel and just left it with 
her. She wouldn’t eat or drink while the 
chicken was rotting right on her neck. Her 
punishment was a trifle hard, but there is 
no doubting it was a kindness in disguise, 
for as a chicken killer she surely would have 
come to grief—but from that day to this, 
Byrd has never bothered a chicken again to 
my knowledge. Recently, however, I had a 
sad experience when she killed a couple of 
ducks on a farm where I had been permitted 
to hunt. Some dogs that are absolutely safe 
with chickens never do get accustomed to 
ducks—there seems to be a greater tempta¬ 
tion to the latter which is almost impossible 
to overcome. 

Not long ago I had a letter from one of 
my readers about a chicken-killing pup. He 
lived on a farm and his puppy killed his 
chickens at every chance. He said he had 
tried tying the dead chicken to the dog, but 
without avail. He asked me to suggest 
something better, and I replied that I could 
not. The last letter I got from him he said 


FACTS AND ANECDOTES in 

he had decided to solve the problem by get¬ 
ting rid of the chickens. 

In breaking a bird dog—or in fact in any 
other sort of work with a dog—you will 
every now and then be startled by circum¬ 
stances that prove the truth of my oft-re¬ 
peated assertion that “They think too.” 
Circumstances make such a difference in how 
dogs act. For instance, there was the Sun¬ 
day afternoon when I was all dressed up 
like a new church with no place to go, and 
took a stroll over the County Club Golf 
Course. Byrd went along, as she usually 
did. It was a very cold January day 
and no golf was being played. All of a 
sudden the little dog lifted that wonderful 
nose of hers and took a whiff at the atmos¬ 
phere. A few minutes later she froze on 
point. 

It didn’t appear to be a likely place for 
birds, so close to the golf course, and not 
very good cover either, so I didn’t pay much 
attention to her. I thought she was probably 
pointing half in play, and started to walk 
right on without recognition of her stand. 
My surprise can better be imagined than 


112 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


described when she immediately left the 
point and ran forward a few feet, flushing 
as big a bunch of birds as I have ever seen. 
But even worse—she gave chase as if she 
would run them clear out of the county! I 
had a terribly hard time getting her in and 
under control. I realized I was partly to 
blame. Furthermore, you can’t expect an 
old head on young shoulders. Nevertheless, 
here was a matter that needed the firm hand 
of discipline. Her little fun was all right if 
she didn’t carry it too far. 

I took her over to where I had seen one of 
the singles drop, and the little devil ran into 
that quail and flushed it exactly the same 
way that she had the covey. This time I 
secured a switch and punished her good 
and severely. She had been so deliberately 
lawless that there was nothing else to do. 
She knew better—and she simply ran wild, 
ignoring my commands as well as my plead¬ 
ings. In a case like that you haven’t much 
of an alternative—but that doesn’t mean 
that you must hurt a dog severely. A 
whipping and a beating are two different 
things. On occasion, one is permissible— 


FACTS AND ANECDOTES 113 

the other, never. I can only add that the 
fellow who takes me too literally may miss 
my meaning*. I make this explanation be¬ 
cause in my former edition I was misunder¬ 
stood by some who formed the impression 
that I believe in “babying” dogs and being 
“soft” with them. Such could not be fur¬ 
ther from my thoughts. 

I switched Byrd quite actively. She was 
so excited, however, that it didn’t affect her 
much. I took hold of her head, and shook 
her to bring her to her senses and get 
her attention. Then I held her head while 
I looked right into her eyes and talked to 
her. Had any one heard me he would 
have been reminded of John Taintor Foote’s 
story entitled Shame On You, wherein the 
old Southern darky jockey overcame the 
tendency of his favorite race horse to break, 
by making him stand up all night long while 
the darky simply repeated over and over and 
over again the three words, “Shame on you.” 
That’s about the same way I talked to the 
little dog that day. 

As we are studying the subject of break¬ 
ing a bird dog, however, suppose we just 


i H BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

stop a minute and analyze that situation. 
Consider these facts: We were on the golf 
course, where she had not been accustomed 
to find birds. She had never known of my 
attempting to find birds in that location. 
Furthermore, as I have already said, I was 
dressed up in my Sunday-go-to-meetin’ duds, 
and wasn’t out looking for birds— and she 
knew it . In the next place, I had no gun nor 
any sort of weapon with me to have got the 
birds if she had held them. Don’t ever think 
for a minute that the little dog didn’t take 
all this into consideration. In the light of 
later events, I am sure of it. I am con¬ 
vinced that the chief reason she flushed 
those birds was that she thought it wouldn’t 
make any difference in the circumstances 
which I have mentioned. This thought was 
strengthened in her mind (almost justified, 
I have since come to think) when I paid ab¬ 
solutely no heed to her point and kept walk¬ 
ing right along without giving the work any 
sort of recognition. So she simply thought 
she might as well have some fun. 

I was relating this experience one day to 
Mr. Nicholas Daniel, with whom it has been 


FACTS AND ANECDOTES 115 

my pleasure and profit to spend a great many 
doggie hours. He immediately told me of 
an experience he witnessed once when he 
was one of the judges at a certain field trial 
down south. The circumstances were not 
similar—except that both show, “They think 
too.” On this occasion Spot’s Rip Rap was 
sweeping all opposition before him by such 
a wide margin that only the most flagrant 
of errors at the eleventh hour could keep 
him from winning. The judges simply 
couldn’t decide against him unless he 
should end up by doing something abso¬ 
lutely unforgiveable. Yet that is exactly 
what he did! He came to a beautiful and 
sensational point on the side of a hill oppo¬ 
site to where the judges and spectators all 
stood—thus staging a most spectacular pos¬ 
sibility as a fitting conclusion to what had 
been a perfect performance. In bold relief 
Spot’s Rip Rap stood out against the sky 
line—a magnificent statue standing his 
birds. Then, all of a sudden, without a 
word of warning, he jumped in and deliber¬ 
ately flushed them! 

That evening Spot’s handler went to Mr. 


n6 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


Daniel and said: “Well, it’s all over—but I 
do want to tell you how that thing hap¬ 
pened, for I know exactly why Spot’s Rip 
Rap flushed those birds. Last night I had 
occasion to punish him and will admit that 
I was possibly a little bit oversevere. He 
has been mad about it ever since and just got 
even with me to-day by kicking the prize 
money higher than a kite after he had al¬ 
ready won it! If the beggar only hadn’t 
done so well first, it wouldn’t seem quite so 
bad—he sure did a good job of getting even, 
I must confess.” 

A somewhat similar experience is related 
by A. F. Hochwalt in his book, The Modern 
Pointer , on page ioo of which valuable pub¬ 
lication he discusses a like circumstance in 
connection with the famous pointer Fishel’s 
Frank. Quoting verbatim from Mr. Hoch- 
walt’s record, we learn the following: 

The four dogs called back into the second series 
were braced to run as follows: FisheFs Frank with 
Pretty Peggy; Miss Ransom with Caesar. The night 
before the running of the finals the order was posted 
that the dogs were to be at the starting place at seven 


TABLE TO FIND DAY OF WHELPING 

Date of Service in Light Figures. Date of Whelping when due in Bold Figures under the 

Light one of Service 


p 

TS< 



P 

cs 



1-4 

CS 



1-4 

CS 

1-4 

cs 



1-1 

cs 



p 

Tf< 

X 




CO 




CO 




X 


X 




X 




X 


" 

co 



o 

p 

6 

CS 

© 

1-4 

© 


© 

iN 

© 

IH 

© 

cs 

© 

p 

© 

p 

© 

X 





CO 


CO 


CO 


X 


X 


X 


X 


X 


X 


X 


o 

CS 




fl 

© 

P 


Cl 


4-> 

a 


■P 


► 

o 

Ip 


G 


© 

ON 

cs 

CO 





3 

CS 



3 


o 




0 

cs 



G 


a> 

cs 







X 




< 


X 


o 


z 




X 





On 

p 

00 

CS 

ON 

P 


>, 

ON 

1—4 

On 

iM 

CN 

© 

o 

iH 



On 

p 

ON 

p 

X 

p 

CS 


cs 


cs 

CO 


0 

cs 

CO 

cs 

X 

cs 

X 

cs 

X 


a> 

cs 

X 

cs 

X 

cs 


— 







X 










0 







CO 

u 


P 

00 

© 

CO 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

ON 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 


u 

cs 

CS 

Q. 

< 

cs 


cs 

CO 

cs 

CO 

cs 

X 

cs 

X 

cs 

cs 

cs 

X 

cs 

X 

cs 

X 

cs 

X 


s 


p 


>> 

03 

s 

t^. 

© 


Os 


ON 


ON 


X 


O 


ON 


o 


o 

r- 

X 

CS 

CO 


cs 

cs 

cs 

CS 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

© 

o 

VO 

O 

VO 

00 

© 

00 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 


© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 


CS 

CO 

cs 

CO 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

CS 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

X 

OS 

X 

O' 

lO 

r> 

X 

o 

X 

k> 

IO 


X 

© 

X 

t> 

X 


X 

l> 

X 

ts 

X 

© 

CS 

CS 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

CS 

cs 

CS 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 


00 


00 


NO 


© 

s« 

© 


© 


X 

s< 

©' 

TJ4 

© 


© 

rtf 

© 

Tjl 

X 

CS 

CS 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

CS 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

CO 

t> 

CO 

t> 

CO 

X 

CO 

X 

co 

X 

X 

X 

X 


X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

1*4 

CS 

CS 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

CS 

so 

cs 

© 

cs 


cs 

Tf4 

cs 


cs 


cs 

X 

cs 


cs 


cs 


cs 


cs 

X 

CS 

(S 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

P 

X 

P 

X 

P 

CO 

1—4 

CO 

P 

X 

1-4 

X 

i-4 

cs 

1-4 

X 

1-4 

X 

p 

X 

p 

X 

p 

cs 

CS 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

<s 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

o 


o 


o 

cs 

© 

cs 

© 

cs 

© 

cs 

© 

1-4 

© 

cs 

© 

cs 

© 

cs 

© 

cs 

© 

p 

CS 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 


cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

cs 

On 

CO 

On 

CO 

On 

1-4 

On 

P 

On 

iH 

Os 

^4 

On 

© 

On 

iH 

ON 

1-4 

o 

p 

On 

p 

ON 

© 

H 

cs 

P 

cs 

P 

cs 

i-4 

cs 

1-4 

cs 

1-4 

cs 

i-4 

cs 

1-4 

cs 

1—4 

cs 

p 

cs 

p 

cs 

p 

cs 

od 

cs 

00 

cs 

00 

© 

00 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

o 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

o 

X 

o 

P 

cs 

vH 

cs 

p 

cs 

H 

cs 

1-4 

cs 

i—4 

cs 

i-4 

IN 

1-4 

cs 

1-H 

cs 

p 

cs 

p 

cs 

p 

p 


P 


P 


OS 


© 


© 

t>1 

© 


X 


o 

*>• 

o' 

r>- 

o 

t>. 

o 


X 

P 

cs 

P 

cs 

P 

1-4 

i-4 

P 

i-4 

P 

iH 

1-4 

1-4 

^4 

1-4 

iN 

1-4 

Ip 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

o’ 

o 

vO 

o 

vO 

00 

VO 

00 

© 

X 

© 

X 

'© 


© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

FT 

i“4 

cs 

P 

cs 

P 

—■4 

tH 

iH 

P 

IN 

1-4 

iN 

iH 

1-4 

1-4 

p 

1—4 

»p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

x" 

OS 

X 

OS 

x 

Cs 

X 

l> 

X 


x" 


x" 

© 

X 

R 

X 


X 

ts, 

X 

t> 

X 

©* 

P 

P 

P 

p 

1-4 

P 

1—4 

P 

1-4 

1-4 

1-4 

^4 

1-4 

N^4 

1-4 

1-4 

1—4 

Np 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 


QO 


00 

T*< 

NO 


© 

S« 

© 


© 


X 


© 


© 


© 


© 

V* 

X 

P 

1-4 

P 

P 

P 

P 

1-4 

1-4 

1-4 

P 

iH 

1-4 

1—4 

1-4 

1-4 

p 

14 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

CO 

t> 

CO 

t> 

CO 

X 

CO 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 


X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

s** 

P 

P 

i-4 

P 

v-4 

p 

1-4 

iH 

1-4 

p 

1—4 

wN 

i-4 

Ip 

1-4 

iH 

1-4 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

CS 

© 

CS 

© 

CS 


CS 

r}4 

CS 


cs 


cs 

X 

cs 


cs 

It 

cs 


cs 

Tf< 

cs 

CO 

P 

p 

P 

p 

i—4 

IN 

i-4 

1-4 

▼-4 

1-4 

i-4 

iN 

i-4 

wH 

1-4 

iH 

1—4 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

P 

X 

P 

X 

1—4 

CO 

1-4 

CO 

1-4 

X 

1—4 

X 

^4 

cs 

1—4 

X 

1-4 

X 

p 

X 

p 

X 

p 

Ff 

P 

iH 

P 

P 

1-4 

p 

1-4 

P 

i-4 

iN 

1—4 

^4 

1—4 


1—4 

p 

1—4 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

o 

rf< 

o 

P 

o 

CS 

© 

cs 

© 

cs 

© 

cs 

© 

IN 

© 

cs 

© 

cs 

© 

cs 

© 

cs 

© 

p 

P 

p 

tH 

P 

1—4 

1-4 

1-4 

IN 

1-4 

1-4 

1—4 

*N 

1—4 

iN 

1-4 

iN 

1-4 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

p 

On 

CO 

Os 

cO 

O 

P 

On 

1-4 

© 

P 

On 

iN 

On 

© 

o 

iN 

o 

p 

o 

p 

On 

p 

o 

©■ 


P 


p 


P 


iN 


P 


IN 


iN 


iH 


p 


p 


p 


p 

00 

cs 

00 

cs 

00 

© 

oo 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

o 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

Q\ 


P 


p 


1-4 


iN 


1-4 


1-4 




iN 


p 


p 


p 

____ 


(>• 

P 

F* 

P 

r- 

Os 


© 


© 


ON 


X 


o 


o 


On 

t-1 

o 


X 


P 


P 




















© 

o 

VO 

o 

vO 

00 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 


© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

X 

© 

Cs 


P 


P 





















X 

OS 

X 

OS 

X 


X 


x 

ts 

X 

t> 

X 

© 

X 

r> 

X 


X 


X 


X 

© 


x 


00 


© 

rt- 

© 

s< 

© 

Tf4 

© 


X 

Tf* 

© 

Tt< 

© 

T*4 

© 


© 

Th 

X 

CO 

ts 

CO 

ts 

CO 

X 

CO 

kO 

CO 

X 

X 

X 

X 

r* 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

X 

s< 

CS 

o 

CS 

© 

CS 

T* 

CS 


cs 

Tf4 

cs 


cs 

X 

cs 


cs 


cs 


cs 


cs 

X 

iH 

X 

P 

X 

P 

co 

1—4 

CO 

tH 

X 

1—4 

X 

1—4 

cs 

1—4 

X 

1-4 

X 

p 

X 

p 

X 

p 

cs 

Jan. 

Mar. 

Feb. 

Apr. 

• 

a 

S 

May 

Apr. 

June 

May 

July 

June 

• 

’CL 

3 

< 

July 

• 

p 

a 

o 

X 

Aug. 

Oct. 

Sept. 

Nov. 

Oct. 

Dec. 

• 

> 

o 

2 

• 

G 

cs 

►o 

Dec. 

Feb. 


The above chart is reproduced by courtesy of Jfr. Nicholas Daniel. 








































n8 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


o’clock. At a few minutes after that hour the first 
brace was cast off. Fishel’s Frank went away with 
his usual snap and dash and for a few minutes he 
looked very good to those who were in the gallery 
as spectators as he flitted far out on the horizon line. 
He skirted the edge of a stubble field, leaped a fence 
into pasture and made for a skirting of woods on the 
left; suddenly he threw his head up, turned and 
caught the scent of quail. For one moment he 
stopped in order to make it out and then he roaded 
up to the edge of the forest and stiffened into one of 
his characteristic attitudes. Jack Gude called point 
and rode up to his dog slowly; he seemed to have 
unbounded confidence in his stanchness. He dis¬ 
mounted thirty yards away, walked up to him and 
was about to flush, when the judges ordered him to 
shoot. Going back to his horse to get the gun out 
of the scabbard, he made a few jesting remarks to 
some of the spectators, but still his confidence was 
unshaken. Just as Gude took the gun down and 
turned toward the dog, Frank bounded forward, put 
up the bevy and chased it into the woods! His every 
action seemed to say: “If you think this is a jest, I’ll 
be a party to it.” Never was handler more sur¬ 
prised; never did a laugh go up among the spec¬ 
tators like on that occasion, for notwithstanding the 
seriousness of it all to Gude, who thus saw the 
money get away from under his very eyes, he, too, 


FACTS AND ANECDOTES 119 

joined in the laugh which went up at his expense. 
That is how Fishel’s Frank lost a place in the all¬ 
age stake of the Ohio trials of 1906. 

When you consider the case of FisheFs 
Frank just mentioned; and that of Spot's 
Rip Rap as related by Mr. Daniel; and of 
how Smada Byrd flushed that covey on the 
golf course—you will realize something of 
the truth I have been trying to drive home: 
namely, that a dog must be given credit for 
the great amount of intelligence that most 
of them have, if you would hope to accom¬ 
plish the best results in training them. The 
trainer who does not govern his efforts by 
a knowledge of these things and the proper 
consideration thereof—will surely fail. 

One of the worst faults of many amateurs 
is constantly nagging at a dog. I have 
often been in the field with fellows who 
are forever coaching or calling to their dogs 
and just naturally nagging the life out of 
them all the time. I cannot adequately ex¬ 
press how ridiculous and hopeless are such 
silly efforts—words fail me. Suffice it to 
say it is just exactly the way not to get the 
best out of any dog. 


CHAPTER XI 
FINISHING TOUCHES 


RULY, you will find breaking a bird 



dog a most fascinating study with 


never a dull moment and always 


some problem to be solved. There was, for 
instance, the day when little Byrd came up 
behind Old Ned and found him on point. 
This was toward the latter part of February 
and the first time she had been afield with 
“her old master” for some time. Imagine 
my surprise when, after backing for a few 
seconds, the little bitch started to pull ahead 
of the stanch and steady pointer. I was 
naturally furious and spoke to her quite 
harshly. 

But, there was another tale to tell when 
no birds flushed! Then, quite some little 
distance ahead, Byrd came to a stand and 
we found the birds in front of her when we 
stepped forward to flush. She had as much 


120 


FINISHING TOUCHES 121 

as said: “Ned, old fellow, they’ve gone on— 
let’s go get ’em.” It was a breach of good 
manners for her to belittle the other dog’s 
point even after she had tested the situation 
for herself—yet it did make it hard to punish 
or scold her for locating the birds that Ned 
had not yet quite nailed. All such things 
must be taken into consideration—you must 
be fair to your dog—else there will be a 
loss of confidence that may cost you dearly. 
Punishment in a case like that, unless mighty 
carefully and correctly administered, would 
be about as easy a way as any to make a 
dog a blinker. 

So many people are too hard and fast in 
their rules. They think a thing should be 
done a certain way and so they blindly ad¬ 
here to policies, based upon arbitrary prece¬ 
dent, that fail utterly to be tempered by a 
consideration of conditions at hand. A 
rule of thumb policy will not give you as 
broad gauged a dog—not one so apt to rise 
to the occasion and meet new emergencies 
as they arise in the work. I always try to 
figure out each case and invariably give the 
dog the benefit of any doubt. Then, if they 


122 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


unquestionably need punishment, I give it 
to them. I very seldom punish a young dog 
in the early stages of training. An older 
dog must be punished if he does wrong de¬ 
liberately when he knows better. My dogs 
suffer almost as much from the mere 
thought of a whipping as from the whip¬ 
ping itself—because they are so anxious to 
please; because they really want to do right. 
My rule is that a good, severe talk always 
precedes the whip and then the latter is 
very effective even though not too harshly 
administered. Do I hear any one call this 
“slush”? If so, let him come around with 
a dog that will do anything I can't make 
mine do both easier and better, and I'll listen 
to him. Otherwise not. And this goes. It 
is both a threat and a promise. 

I work Byrd regularly at least twice each 
week and it is the most fascinating recrea¬ 
tion imaginable. You can make quite a 
game of it if you take a kodak along and 
try with it to record all unusual or striking 
poses or situations. The fact that it is not 
easy to get what you want but adds to the 
interest. There was, for instance, that 


FINISHING TOUCHES 123 

never-to-be-forgotten day when Byrd beat 
Ned to the birds in a most sensational find 
—and then that perfectly beautiful piece of 
work as the keen-nosed little Setter roaded 
the covey the entire length of the field, 
backed every inch of the way by the mag¬ 
nificent Pointer. As stanch as a statue and 
true as steel, he kept well behind her, and, 
as a gentleman should, honored her work— 
not once even so much as attempting to rob 
her in any way of the full credit. Honest to 
the last drop of his blood—an aristocrat 
every inch—as I watched Old Ned that day 
the thought surged through me how truly 
most of us should feel humbled in the pres¬ 
ence of such splendid dogs, before which 
we should bow down our heads in unfeigned 
humility. Yet the day just recorded I had 
left the kodak behind! 

These kodak trips will give your dog lots 
of work—so necessary to successful results 
—and will take you out-of-doors into the 
open air, and the invigorating exercise will 
fill you with health. You can’t expect to 
work a dog for only a month or so out of 
twelve and hope to own as thoroughly de- 


124 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

veloped a shooting companion as if you give 
him enough work to keep him tuned up to it. 
You should work your dog afield from Sep¬ 
tember through March—not burdensomely, 
but at least every once in a while. It makes 
wonderful recreation to take your dog for a 
stroll where you know there are birds, and 
work him on them. What fun it is to seek 
for game—then find it! To match your wits 
and your dog’s judgment and nose against 
the wary birds seeking to avoid you—and 
finally, having stood the test, to be rewarded 
for all your efforts by that ever thrilling 
picture of a pretty point. What matters it 
if you kill or not—except just enough so that 
the dog doesn’t forget what it’s all about. 
I have almost as much fun just working my 
dogs out of season as I do shooting over 
them when the law permits—not quite as 
much fun, of course, but enough to make it 
amply worth while. Certainly there is 
plenty of thrill when quail take to wing! 
And when it comes to pheasants—man alive! 
We had Byrd out just yesterday getting 
“oiled up” on them and words fail me to 
describe the fun. You sportsmen, whose 


FINISHING TOUCHES 125 

days afield with a dog are limited to the com¬ 
paratively few days of open season, little 
realize what you are missing. Breaking 
your own bird dog, if spread out over about 
eight months out of the twelve, as it should 
be, will give you just a world of wonderful 
pleasure—and in the end a shooting dog 
that will please you better and be the source 
of more pride than you will ever experience 
with a dog broken for you by some outside 
trainer. And if you don’t keep your good 
dog tuned up, don’t blame him if he goes 
stale. 

I recommend the long, slow development, 
because I do not believe you can or should 
try to crowd a dog’s schooling into a few 
short weeks—any more than you would the 
education of a child. We are prone to ex¬ 
pect too much of a dog and are seldom pre¬ 
pared to make proper allowances. I have 
found that the less people know about dogs 
the more apt they are to fail in their appre¬ 
ciation of limitations. Consequently such 
people never receive from a dog anything 
approaching his full capacity for service. 
These splendid creatures are wonderful 


126 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


enough just as they are without the impos¬ 
sible being expected of them. 

In teaching a dog to do anything what¬ 
soever, I have always got the best results 
by carrying on the training in connection 
with the actual need. Of course this method 
presupposes that you already have your dog 
in control and amenable to your wishes; and 
on a sufficiently friendly basis with you so 
that the understanding of the thing you de¬ 
sire is not an impossible matter. I have 
never been a very good advocate of teaching 
a dog to do something just to be doing it. I 
have an idea that a good dog realizes that 
such training is very largely a mere matter 
of horseplay—he doesn’t get the reason for it 
—and I think he doesn’t enter into it quite 
as satisfactorily as if conditions are such that 
he naturally can understand that there is a 
very definite and reasonable object in what 
you ask him to do. Now don’t all laugh at 
once. I know that a great many readers 
will say that this is giving the dog credit 
for more wisdom than he really has. The 
only thing I can say is that those of you who 
laugh, had better laugh at long range—for 


FINISHING TOUCHES 127 

if you are close enough to Dayton to want 
to see the opposite proved true, my dogs are 
a living example of the fact that my 
methods will produce results. Allow me to 
add that I have but little doubt that many 
people will not be able to accomplish results 
along just the lines I do—but in nine cases 
out of ten, that will be their fault and not the 
fault of their dogs. My methods will pro¬ 
duce remarkable results if the master is equal 
to doing his part along the lines this book 
suggests . 

But theories and generalities are cheap, 
and only specific cases count, so permit 
me to be specific and illustrate my point by 
telling exactly how I taught Smada Byrd 
to stay where I tell her to stay until I give 
her permission to leave. 

I didn’t bother with her on this point un¬ 
til occasion arose when it would be a real 
service to me for her to do this thing. 

My property adjoins the Dayton Country 
Club and I find it very refreshing during the 
summer months to stop by there for a 
shower before dinner in the evening on 
my way home from the office. One day I 


128 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


happened to have Byrd with me in town and 
decided that I would like to have a shower, 
but was a little late getting started home 
and didn't have any time to spare. I de¬ 
cided that this would be a good opportunity 
to give her a little instruction. I took her 
with me into the locker room, and, when I 
was ready for the shower, I pushed her to 
the floor by the chair where I had placed my 
clothes and then, while I held my hand on 
her back to keep her down, I quietly but 
firmly repeated the instruction: “Lie down 
—stay there." When I had given her this 
order several times so that I felt reasonably 
sure she would do as instructed, unless her 
attention was diverted, I started for the 
shower; but I asked a friend of mine who 
was there to watch her out of the corner of 
his eye and give me the signal quickly if she 
should start to leave. I had just begun to 
run the water when he called to me that he 
believed she was getting ready to move 
from her post—and so I immediately left 
the shower and caught her in the very act of 
starting away. I then again pressed her to 
the floor and repeated the same commands 


FINISHING TOUCHES 129 

that I had given previously. The whole 
situation—coupled with the fact that she 
concluded I must have an all-seeing eye— 
worked splendidly and this time she stayed 
exactly where I told her until I returned. 
Even then she did not try to get up until 
I gave her permission to do so. 

The next time I had occasion to ask Byrd 
to stay where put was one evening when I 
had been invited to give a little talk before 
a group of Boy Scouts. They made a big 
fire in the open grate of the cabin on their 
reservation and gathered around the fire to 
listen to my remarks. I had taken Byrd 
with me but it was manifest that I did not 
want to be interrupted by her during the 
program. The next situation was that there 
were some crullers and sandwiches about on 
the tables for the benefit of the boys and 
naturally I did not want her, by any chance, 
to cause an interruption by attempting to 
get any of these. I therefore took her to 
the place where I wanted her to lie and gave 
her the same instruction as I had done some 
time previously at the Country Club. 

I didn’t have a bit of trouble and she 


130 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

didn’t even attempt to leave her place until I 
was through with what I had to say and 
gave her permission to do so. Since that 
time I have had a number of occasions when 
I have had to ask Byrd to wait some place 
for me—and not once has she failed. 

It is my belief that I was benefited in giv¬ 
ing these instructions by the fact that the 
need for her to do as I told her was manifest. 
The results, as secured, would seem to jus¬ 
tify my belief—because, with but very little 
effort, I have accomplished more than most 
people are ever able to do as a result of al¬ 
most constant effort to keep their dogs up 
to the mark. I might have asked Byrd to 
do these things innumerable times for “prac¬ 
tice”—but the trouble with so much mere 
practice is that the dog is apt to regard it 
pretty much as poppycock and not take it so 
seriously as if you handle such situations as 
I tried to do. Just let it be remembered, 
however, that what I have accomplished 
must not be considered as rather extem¬ 
poraneous any more than any fundamen¬ 
tally good speech is ever extemporaneous. 
The foundation had already been laid and 


FINISHING TOUCHES 


131 

the way prepared by months of companion¬ 
ship with my dog, so that she was ready 
when the time came to respond in the way I 
wanted her to do. 

After all, the whole proposition just gets 
right back to my idea that it is companion¬ 
ship and confidence that will accomplish the 
purpose you seek—more than any deep se¬ 
cret or mysterious power or special knowl¬ 
edge of set rules how to secure a given re¬ 
sult. Don’t think of the rule book when 
confronted by some problem with your dog. 
Use your own judgment and place your 
faith in his friendship—and it’s pretty apt 
to be more your fault than his if he fails you. 
Love, backed by plain common sense and 
good judgment, will do more than anything 
else in the world. If you get a well-bred 
dog, from parents that have been real bird 
dogs, you have the natural instincts pretty 
well developed. And if you haven’t such a 
specimen to start with, it is often cheaper 
and better to get a new dog rather than 
spend too much time and money on one that 
may never be worth his feed. This is not 
always true, of course, but as a rule is pretty 


132 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

apt to work out. On the other hand, some 
dogs—just as some people—are merely 
slower in developing and often don’t really 
“come to themselves” until later in life. I 
have found that the cheapest dogs are 
usually the most expensive; and I have seen 
so many people fall victims of the delusion 
of picking out a good one for a small price. 
What a pity! 

Lytle’s Hoosier Spot, the exceptional 
Pointer bitch that we now work regularly 
as a brace mate with Byrd, required almost 
no training at all. She just took to it as nat¬ 
urally as a duck to water. From the very 
first she went wide. She is industrious and 
has always been stanch on point as well as 
steady to shot and wing—yet she has never 
even needed a check cord. But, of course, 
she is phenomenal. Almost the only train¬ 
ing Spot ever needed was in the matter of 
distinguishing game—she would at first 
point anything from snakes to rabbits and 
she was as stanch on fur as on feather. As 
soon as a few birds had been killed over her, 
however, she was almost perfectly broken. 

Yes, some dogs “break” more easily than 



Spot is younger than Byrd—lacking tzvo months of being a year old at the time this picture 
zoas taken. She is fast, wide and stylish, both in her work and on her game. Furthermore, 
she has “bird sense” with something to spare. 















133 


FINISHING TOUCHES 

others. Some, like Spot, need almost no 
breaking - at all, only finishing and refining. 
Don't be misled into the belief that there is 
something mysterious or uncanny about 
breaking a bird dog. There is not. There 
are exceptions, of course, but if you just go 
along with a dog, following somewhat the 
lines I practiced with Smada Byrd, as de¬ 
scribed in this book, and then if the dog does 
not respond properly, it will be a pretty safe 
bet that the chances are the best thing to do 
would be to try another dog. It may hap¬ 
pen that you have one of the exceptions that 
it really requires a professional to handle— 
a dog that is somewhat beyond the abilities 
of an ordinary amateur to break. In that 
case the most satisfactory thing for you to 
do is to get another dog as the subject for 
your efforts; for it is an assured fact that 
the right sort of bird dogs will respond to 
constant companionship and love which 
have bred understanding and a desire to do 
the right thing, coupled with an abiding 
faith and confidence in the master who 
guides them. 

Cosmopolitan magazine used to publish a 


134 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

little loose-leaf house organ called The Bet¬ 
ter Way which is remarkable for its splen¬ 
didly put conclusions. It is written by 
Maxwell I. Pitkin, whose command of Eng¬ 
lish is second only to his power of expression 
and art for writing. The following is 
quoted from the issue of February io, 1923: 

One day in late December a wealthy banker en¬ 
tered a fashionable jewelry shop on Fifth Avenue, 
and went directly to the diamond counter. 

The clerk in charge, at his request, brought out a 
large tray of unset stones, and proceeded to recount 
the carat, value and history of each jewel. 

Presently the banker’s interest centered on a large 
blue-white Jaeger, exquisitely cut and gleaming like 
a spark of fire. But the price seemed prohibitive, 
and, though the clerk labored faithfully enough to 
make the sale, the banker was about to turn away. 

Just then he came along—the man who employed 
the clerk—and asked for a word in the conversation. 

He, too, talked diamonds—that was all. But he 
did it—well, reverently. He held the stone to the 
light, that the banker might look far into its crystal 
depths. He shadowed it in his palm, revealing new 
flashes of blue and red and green. He told the 
regal story of its travels and adventures. He talked 
of diamonds as he knew them. 


FINISHING TOUCHES 


135 


The banker bought the stone. 

“Why was it,” he asked of the jeweler, “that you 
were able to sell me that stone after your clerk had 
failed?” 

“Because,” the jeweler replied quietly, “while my 
clerk understands diamonds, I love them ” 

I have quoted the foregoing anecdote com¬ 
pletely verbatim, for the reason that it gives 
expression, I believe, better than I could do 
it, to the one great fundamental in breaking 
a bird dog, which it has been my desire and 
my hope to drive home in this book. Instead 
of a diamond, the subject might just as well 
have been a dog—and the concluding ques¬ 
tion and statement changed merely to some¬ 
thing such as the following: 

“'Why was it,” he asked, “that you were 
able to break that dog after your trainer had 
failed?” 

“Because,” the master replied quietly, 
“while my trainer understands dogs, I love 
them” 

Perhaps I have said enough. I believe I 
have. Let us, therefore, merely sum up the 
definite duties of the broken bird dog. 

1. He must have the hunting instinct and 


136 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

desire to range wide to hunt for birds; and 
with age and experience must come what we 
call “bird sense,” which is merely the matter 
of using sound, good judgment as to the 
best locations, the most likely birdy 
spots, in the territory hunted. ( Devel¬ 
opment along these lines depends upon nat¬ 
ural inclination plus plenty of opportunity to 
hunt.) 

2. On finding the desired game (and you 
can easily make it clear to a dog what is and 
what is not to be hunted) the dog must point 
stanchly and dependably. (The modern bird 
dog either points naturally or is taught to do 
so with comparative ease—while stanchness 
and dependability grow greater with age and 
experience.) 

3. Your dog must be steady to shot and 
wing. (This is not natural, as the inclination 
is usually to chase when game is flushed. But 
the check cord or some method must be used 
to bring a dog to positive steadiness to shot and 
wing. This is one of the most important of 
the artificial phases of training.) 

4. The truly finished dog will retrieve. 
(Sometimes to do this comes naturally With 



In Black and White 

One of the most enthusiastic setter breeders of to-day is Mr. 
G. F. Mosher, of Kansas City, owner of the famous “Gunner,” 
as well as Lad Rodney and Momoney’s Joe. Above is shown 
Hvo of Lad Rodney's puppies with their nurse. (“In Black and 
White” is the title Mr. Mosher gives this picture.) 



Two Setter Puppies Pointing at an Early Age 

These puppies have inherited birdy characteristics from a long 
line of splendid ancestry. 












FINISHING TOUCHES 


137 

others it must be taught. The force system is 
to be recommended except where natural re¬ 
trieving is unquestionably true and depend¬ 
able—as it is developed to such a high degree 
in some of the Spaniels. But the force system 
is usually by far the most satisfactory.) 

5. The foregoing are the fundamental 
essentials in the working dog. Backing— 
that is, honoring the point of another dog— 
and a number of little refinements that go to 
make the truly high-class field companion 
and helper depend upon the particular dog’s 
own natural ability cultivated by a master 
who understands him thoroughly. (In the 
April, 1923, issue of the “American Maga¬ 
zine” there is an article by Samuel A. Derieux, 
in which he tells of a dog he once owned that 
would go out very wide to find birds, then 
back away from them and find his master and 
lead him {Mr. Derieux) to the covey which 
Buck would again promptly point. Such de¬ 
velopment as this is, however, strikingly out¬ 
standing.) 

I have just finished reading a story en¬ 
titled “The Red Queen,” by T. von Zie- 
kursch, in the February 20, 1923, issue of the 


138 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

Popular Magazine. It is a splendid bird-dog 
story with an Irish Setter as the heroine and 
from it I have taken three short, but mighty 
sentences, which I have chosen as the most 
fitting possible thought to leave with you in 
ending this chapter, which concludes my 
message in this book, so far as training is 
concerned—the other chapters that follow 
not bearing directly upon this subject. Mr. 
von Ziekursch says: “To the really great 
bird dog the art of the hunt comes naturally 
and by instinct. Man has taught the might¬ 
iest champions of the field very, very little. 
Few have been injured by insufficient tu¬ 
toring—but many have been injured by too 
much.” 

Rev. William Bulloch, of Harrison, New 
York, has very kindly given permission to 
reprint his poem “Loskin Ben” from a re¬ 
cent issue of the American Field: 

LOSKIN BEN 

Your feet scarce seem to touch the ground, 

As with a lightsome joyous bound 
You spring to where the birds are found. 
Fleet-footed Ben. 


FINISHING TOUCHES 


139 


A setter of a famous race, 

Of dogs that well could show the pace, 
That won in many a hard-fought race, 

Is my young Ben. 

Your sire knew too much to stay 
And throw his precious time away 
Where wily quail would never stray. 

Just to please men. 

But scorning all the bare green field 
He knew no crafty bird concealed, 

He sought the cover that would yield 
The hidden game. 

And from your dam, my gallant boy, 

Comes rich blue blood without alloy, 

The blood that’s been the sportsman’s joy 
Since Gladstone came. 

Your grandsire, gallant Eugene M, 

Has handed down a worthy name, 

’Though some would be inclined to blame 
His urge alone. 

But when you flit among the trees, 

Or speeding up against the breeze, 

You catch the scent and sudden freeze 
As stiff as stone, 

I know that of a noble race, 

A scion, you will fill your place 
And many a happy day you’ll grace, 

My bonnie Ben. 


CHAPTER XII 

THINGS TO BEWARE OF 

O NE of the worst evils in any way 
connected with dogs—and one that 
all who are sincerely interested in 
these wonderful creatures should fight to 
the last ditch—is the unscrupulous buyer as 
well as the unscrupulous breeder and 
trainer. I don't know which is the worst. 
It is probably a case of jumbling them to¬ 
gether in the same bag and either one that 
comes out first can be picked for winners as 
“worst of all breeds." 

The proposition of a trainer taking money 
for a service supposed to be rendered and 
then merely carrying the dog along as a 
“crate warmer," is such a deplorable situa¬ 
tion that I sometimes almost feel as if the 
battle should be fought with gun and sword. 
The worst part of it all, it seems to me, is the 
fact that the dog is such a noble creature 


THINGS TO BEWARE OF 141 

himself—that it is a crime he should be de¬ 
based by animals so much his inferiors as 
some men! 

Some of the proudest documents in my 
possession are letters from people whom I 
have been able to help somewhat after they 
have become involved with dishonest 
breeders and trainers. By bringing- a little 
pressure to bear—by threatening in some 
cases and pleading in others—by coaxing 
and commands—I have in several instances 
been able to help those who have been suf¬ 
fering helplessly as the result of some dog 
deal. Just recently in two instances—one in 
Michigan and the other in Wisconsin—I 
was able, by a little diplomatic persuasion, 
to induce breeders to deliver dogs that had 
been ordered and paid for some months 
earlier, and which, it was very clear, they 
never had intended to do. It has been only 
by the greatest good fortune that in several 
such instances I have been able to aid the 
purchasers—doubly so that often I have 
been successful in getting a good specimen 
and not merely some old scrub. 

But I will not waste your time or mine 


142 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

discussing this subject in unnecessary detail 
beyond the province of this book. Old dog 
men well know of it, and the new ones will 
simply have to take my word and avoid 
trouble as best they can from such meager 
advice as it is possible to give. Don't ever 
send your dog to any trainer until you are 
absolutely certain that he is thoroughly re¬ 
liable. Investigate him from every possible 
angle before risking such a valuable creature 
as a good bird dog in his hands. And never 
buy a dog unless you have proved absolutely 
that the reputation of the seller is above re¬ 
proach. Why, you can’t always count on 
getting even the correct stud service unless 
you accompany the dog and are yourself an 
eyewitness of the event. 

The silliest part of the whole business is 
that there isn’t even any manner of sense to 
it—not to mention its injustice from a moral 
standpoint. Crookedness is simply an evi¬ 
dence of ignorance. For who of us is in 
business for only a day! No one—whether 
he be in the dog business or the composing of 
ditties—can get anywhere unless he pleases 
his public. And what’s the use of trying to 


THINGS TO BEWARE OF 143 

do anything unless you do get somewhere 
with it? There's no use being in any kind 
of a business unless it repeats—it's too ex¬ 
pensive always developing new customers. 
Profit can come only from the constant re¬ 
peat business of old customers—that is, 
speaking of profit in its bigger, broader 
sense. Little profits aren’t worth the bother 
of picking. Why, then, should a trainer of 
bird dogs think it smart to carry more dogs 
to the prairies or anywhere else than it is 
possible actually to train? What does it 
profit him, if he can never resell the same 
sucker twice? There’s really no profit in 
trying to trade on the old exploded theory 
that “there’s a new sucker born every min¬ 
ute.” It is vastly cheaper—and in the end 
much more profitable—to take less dogs to 
train and give each more attention, thus giv¬ 
ing value received, the same as is done in 
any legitimate business, and so please the 
people who own the dogs that they will send 
others to you year after year, and by word 
of mouth boost you until you are so busy 
you will have to boost your rates, just as 
other professional people must do, and yet 


144 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

have customers want to come to you any¬ 
way even at the higher rates, because they 
know they will always get value received 
for their money—that you are not one of the 
kind who thrives on the basis of constant 
change of customers, necessitated through a 
“crate-warmer” basis of doing business. 
The honest method may not pay so well the 
first season—but in the long run the trainer 
who builds up his business on that basis will 
have money in his pocket when the other 
guys are broke. 

The following letter was received recently 
in the course of a busy day from an old 
trainer of over twenty years' experience—a 
man who is a credit to his profession. The 
pity is that he is able to put the shoe on the 
other foot and show how unscrupulous are 
many buyers. He says: 

As for training, I think I have advertised for 
dogs three different times in my life. I am past the 
advertising stage so far as training is concerned. 

In twenty years of playing the dog game I have 
had only one dissatisfied customer, and that one 
changed his mind regarding the pup in question 
when I offered to refund his money for return of the 


THINGS TO BEWARE OF 145 

pup. He was a breeder of Gordon Setters, the big¬ 
gest type I ever saw, and he was judging English 
Setters by the Gordon standard. 

There are many crooked dog dealers, no doubt, 
but they have nothing on some of these rich Jaspers 
at that. I know of one who used to have a large 
hunting lodge and who would advertise for shooting 
dogs, demanding the highest-class dogs, willing to 
pay any price, but the dog must come on approval, 
preferably thirty days. Every season he and his 
guests shot over crack dogs, and if he ever bought 
one, no one ever found it out. All he was out was 
express charges, and the poor breeder was out of 
luck. 

I am one who is for the betterment of the grand 
game all the way around—it’s too splendid to let a 
few crooks spoil it, whether they be breeders or 
buyers, and I’m for your honor idea strong. 

In another letter the same trainer says: 

I have certainly seen plenty of crooked dog men 
and, because there are more of them in total any¬ 
how, there are more crooked buyers than there are 
crooked breeders. But what show has a dog man 
against a man who belongs to half a dozen clubs 
and takes his friends out on personally conducted 
shooting trips? A trainer is certainly up against it 


146 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

in the case of this type of customer when he raises 
a howl because you have not finished a gun-shy dog 
in two months, and made a perfect shooting dog of 
him in that time. They often expect you to do this 
even though it would be the work of a master to 
turn the dog out finished in seven months at the least. 

Speaking for myself, I know of a number 
of instances of deplorably unscrupulous 
owners. In one case a nice little bitch was 
sent for training. The trainer should have 
had her about six months, but was limited 
to sixty days. When she reached him the 
little bitch was found to be in season—surely 
not his fault. Yet she could not be worked 
during that period; and when the owner 
ordered her home for the shooting season 
she had not yet been steadied to game. The 
trainer justly asked for his pay before ship¬ 
ping the dog, and received a wire saying a 
check was in the mails. The dog was at 
once shipped—but the check never came to 
hand, and hasn't yet. 

If we owners would all only realize that 
dogs will get sick, and will die—for us as 
well as for trainers—I am sure we would 
have more sympathy and patience with 


THINGS TO EEWARE OF 147 

handlers. Furthermore, if more of you 
knew, as I do, that to break a dog right is 
worth $50 a month of any man’s money we 
wouldn’t be expecting quite so much for the 
measly $30 or less that we now pay. 

I would like to see every reader of this book 
consider himself a committee of one to fight 
all crookedness in dog dealings to the last 
ditch—to its eventual death. We can ac¬ 
complish much if we but set our hearts and 
our minds to it. There are many splendid 
examples of honest trainers that it should be 
an inspiration for others to follow and it is 
our duty to help these to succeed, just as 
much as it is our duty to do all in our power 
to destroy the others. 

It is refreshing now to speak from the 
opposite standpoint and consider how many 
magnificent characters there are who have 
been pillars of strength and a credit to the 
fancy. Those who are of the contrary type 
probably stand out in more prominent relief 
than would be the case but for the outstand¬ 
ing contrast. Let those of us who are to 
carry the banner forward draw inspiration 
from the best examples of the past and let 


148 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

them guide our footsteps right. Men who 
really love dogs could not do otherwise—the 
truth that shines from their loving eyes is 
so uncalculating, so honest, so sincere, so 
big, and so bold and so straightforward that 
even the mere thought of deception of any 
kind should be banished from our minds. 

For the man who loves the out-of-doors 
nothing is more fascinating than breaking a 
bird dog; and nothing gives a hunter so 
much satisfaction as to shoot over a dog 
that he has broken himself. 

The only reason I have written this book 
is because I have felt that some of my sug¬ 
gestions may be helpful, particularly from 
the standpoint of dog psychology—so essen¬ 
tial for successful results. Other works 
have given devices in more detail—mine 
aims more at the matter of the mind . That 
one phase of the subject is a big enough task 
for any one book. If I shall have succeeded 
merely in causing you to realize what an 
important part of the problem this matter is 
—the closest possible meeting of minds, 
yours with your dog's—then I shall feel that 
I have not failed. 



The prettiest picture an artist could paint—an honest honoring of a find by her braccmate, 
the splendid Setter paying tribute to the spectacular point of the whirlwind, Lytle's Hoosier 
Spot. Needless to say, the Setter backing is Smada Byrd. 












CHAPTER XIII 

“SONG BIRDS” AND THE FARMER 

I CANNOT pass over this opportunity 
to say something about the relation¬ 
ship between the hunter and the farmer 
—so all important is this matter, and so 
surely does it seem to have a place in a book 
such as this which is to be read by bird-dog 
men who are so intimately affected thereby 
either for weal or woe. 

It is ‘fundamental for us to realize that 
although the state can give us a license to 
hunt it can go no further. The state cannot 
give us the right to shoot on any man's 
property. Hunters, therefore, are dependent 
upon the courtesy of the farmers for the 
right to enjoy the privilege of the shooting 
license as granted by the state. A hunter 
has no inherent right to shoot upon another 
man's land. Let's get that firmly fixed in 
our minds right in the very beginning and 
149 


150 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

have no uncertainty about it. The sooner 
we get that into our heads, the better posi¬ 
tion we will be in as to the solution of the 
future. 

Where do we get the arrogant attitude 
that many would-be hunters are wont to as¬ 
sume? Possibly I should say where did we 
get this attitude in the past? I use the past 
tense, for, so far as I can see, the hunter of 
to-day is increasingly respectful of the rights 
of others. Yet while this may be true—it is 
certainly to be regretted that the tendency 
is coming so late. 

On the other hand, where do some farmers 
get the mistaken idea that game is private 
property! The following, quoted from the 
November 3, 1923, issue of National Stock - 
man and Farmer, will show that such is not 
the case: 

Since most of the early Americans came from 
England the language, customs and laws of that 
country naturally prevailed in the New World. There 
were a few exceptions because the colonists did not 
approve all English customs or laws. One of these 
exceptions was the ownership of game. In England 
the owner of the land owned the game, and since 


“SONG BIRDS” 151 

the country was made up largely of great estates a 
few persons controlled the privilege of hunting and 
fishing. The colonists took care to provide that no 
such monopoly should exist in their country by mak¬ 
ing the game the property of the commonwealth, 
and this principle prevails in most states now. While 
the game belongs to the commonwealth the land 
belongs to the individual, and he may prohibit tres¬ 
pass thereon if he chooses. In many places he has 
been compelled to prohibit hunting for the sake of 
protecting his property. This because so many 
hunters were careless or criminal. In some cases 
organizations of sportsmen and owners of land have 
come to an understanding which # is good for both 
parties. Land owners are guaranteed against dam¬ 
age and both parties protect and foster game that is 
useful to both. Some day, by organization on both 
sides, such an arrangement may become common, to 
the advantage of all concerned. The careless or ma¬ 
rauding hunter, who is no sportsman, is the greatest 
obstacle to such plans now. 

For some years now Ohio has been the 
sore spot of sportsmen all over the country, 
due to the law which changed the course of 
nature and decreed that quail should be no 
longer the best of the game birds, but should 
be demoted to the class with mere canaries 


152 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

and other songsters. I have even recently 
noticed a tendency in some other states to 
follow Ohio’s example. To them I would 
like to urge DON’T DO IT. I cannot but believe 
that the tendency referred to is not so much 
that these other states think the measure a 
wise one, but that they naturally feel like 
following the leadership—in this as in other 
matters—of one so important as the Buck¬ 
eye State. A certain sense of obligation, 
therefore, rests upon Ohio that her example 
may be one worthy of being followed. Un¬ 
questionably this song-bird law should be 
repealed—for it is not a credit to our statute 
books. It is merely one more prohibition 
that does not prohibit. If any reader cares 
to go deeper into this subject he might get 
the January 5, 1924, and February 23, 1924, 
issues of National Stockman and Farmer and 
read my debate with the farmers through 
the columns of that worthy publication, 
which has always been so fearless and so 
fair. 

No one imagines for a minute that quail 
are song birds. The farmers themselves do 
not think so, nor really want them so classi- 


“SONG BIRDS” 


153 

fied. But they have simply put one over on 
the sportsmen—to get even, and reduce the 
attractiveness of hunting, because they have 
suffered so much from hunters in the past. 
And not one of us can blame them for that 
desire . The only pity is that so many of them 
are not yet ready and willing to forgive and 
forget . 

Now I have found that the farmer is, on 
the whole, a pretty good sort—just as people 
generally are, on the whole, a pretty good 
sort. Blood is blood and hearts are hearts, 
whether you find them on the farm or in the 
forum. You treat the farmer right and he 
will almost always reciprocate. You be fair 
to him and he will be fair to you. I have 
usually found that when I go to a farmer in 
advance, tell him who I am and what I want, 
and enter into a little friendly conversation 
with him, enough so he may know that he 
may count upon appreciation and fair play 
in return for his great kindness to me—the 
almost invariable rule is that he will be glad 
to grant the privilege. 

I think that each real sportsman should 
take it upon himself as a definite duty in 


154 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

every way within his power to help protect 
the farmer from the encroachment of un¬ 
scrupulous shooters. Accidents will hap¬ 
pen. Yet accidents need not happen very 
often. There is no excuse for it. If a do¬ 
mestic fowl is accidentally killed, or any of 
the stock is injured, no sportsman is fair 
even to himself, let alone his brother sports¬ 
men, if he does not immediately go to the 
man whose property has been lost or dam¬ 
aged and make it good. The fellow who 
ducks such responsibility is only making it 
harder for himself, and for others. If such 
responsibilities had not been ducked in the 
past, we would to-day be shooting quail in 
Ohio, take it from me! As a matter of fact, 
I very much doubt if any hunter who can’t 
tell a cow from a quail is fit to be allowed to 
roam the fields with loaded firearms. 

I will confess that, until I had thought 
seriously upon these things, I myself did 
not regard the farmers’ attitude in the same 
sympathetic light as I do at present. To¬ 
day I would do anything that lies within 
my power to protect the farmers’ interests, 
because I know their interests and mine 


“SONG BIRDS” 


155 

arc identical in the long run. I, personally, 
am very bitter against the so-called sports¬ 
man who is injuring his brother sportsmen’s 
interests, as well as his own, by not helping 
to protect the interests of the farmers. I 
have no patience with any such and believe 
it will be a splendid day when all true sports¬ 
men take up the fight against those of the 
type that have been instrumental in bring¬ 
ing the farmers and the sportsmen so far 
apart. 

But, happily, I believe there is a great 
tendency toward a better understanding. 
The bond of mutuality between the farmer 
and the huntsman is necessary for the per¬ 
petuation of sport. Let all sportsmen so 
conduct themselves that the farmers do not 
even desire to resort to such practice as to 
call quail song birds in order to accomplish 
their purpose of reducing the number of 
hunters. 

I would like to see sportsmen and their 
organizations recognized as the chief allies 
of the farmers. Let sportsmen actively line 
up and help the farmers in their various 
problems—political and otherwise, and let 


156 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

the farmers come to realize that they may 
unfailingly count upon the cooperation of 
the sportsmen, whenever their cause is just 
—and you will go a long way toward bring¬ 
ing these two interests together. For re¬ 
member this: We need the farmer. And the 
farmer needs us. Let’s be the fastest friends 
in the world and our troubles will never hap¬ 
pen. Nothing could be finer, nothing more 
natural, than a blending and cementing of 
the friendship between farmers and sports¬ 
men. Then— who knows?—quail may 
some day even cease to be song birds! 

Seriously speaking, quail are not song 
birds. Besides, it is best for quail to be shot 
into—best for the quail themselves. The 
reason for this is, that it breaks up the coveys 
and thus prevents the old cock birds from 
maintaining undaunted sway and gives the 
young cocks a chance. This is good for the 
quail, in that it makes hardier, stronger, 
bigger, better birds—birds that are health¬ 
ier and more able to take care of them¬ 
selves. 

This is well, particularly since it must be 
remembered that hawks, foxes, cats and se- 


“SONG BIRDS” 157 

vere winters kill more quail than all the 
hunters ever will; and it goes without saying 
that the hardier the quail the better able they 
will be to take care of themselves. This sort 
of information should be given the farmers. 
They don’t realize it. You fellows who 
know the facts should spread the gospel. 
Get your local newspapers, farm press and 
other mediums of publicity to publish such 
information. It is really ridiculous that 
quail should be called song birds on the the¬ 
ory of protection—when it really works out 
the other way. Let’s get the facts out of 
the darkness—let’s get editors to printing 
for the people the correct information. 
Plenty of publicity is what we need more 
than anything else—so let’s go after it and 
get it. It makes no difference how much 
we know if no one else knows it. Printer’s 
ink is what we sportsmen need more than 
anything else. That is what beats us, by 
being adverse; and that is the weapon we 
ourselves must use to win our way back to 
our fundamental rights. Much good can be 
accomplished if we will give all the facts we 
can muster to every editor we know. And 


158 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

another thing—it isn’t the sporting publica¬ 
tions that can do us the most good. They 
only reach fellows like ourselves. But it is 
the newspapers and farm press that we must 
somehow reach and win. It’s a big job— 
but let’s tackle it! If each one of us does 
his share, we’ll accomplish a lot in total. 
Let’s dig up the most authentic possible 
facts and present them to the greatest pos¬ 
sible number of people. That’s the way to 
put over any proposition. The old day of 
darkness has passed. This is the age of 
publicity. 

Another thing we must impress upon the 
public is the fact that sportsmen are the best 
friends any kind of game can have. For 
sportsmen realize they must protect to per - 
petuate! For selfish reasons, even if no 
other, the sportsman will do all he can to 
protect the quail. I am speaking, of course, 
of sportsmen as a whole—not some wanton, 
wilfully destructive individuals. These ex¬ 
ist in all classes. After all is said and done, 
the best thing for the quail would be to make 
them game birds again in Ohio, and for their 
best protection put them back where they 


“SONG BIRDS” 159 

belong—in the hands of their best friends: 
the sportsmen . 

It’s bad practice to make laws that any 
large number of citizens will not respect. 
We have too many such—and they breed 
contempt of all law, which is the worst thing 
that can happen. Give quail back to the 
sportsmen, and the birds will be better pro¬ 
tected than they are to-day. Then if there is 
a short open season—even if for only five or 
ten days—it will be observed and respected 
by the best sportsmen everywhere; and that 
will be a healthy condition. It is most de¬ 
cidedly not the case with the law that exists 
to-day . 

As I write, the following letter has just 
reached me from a sportsman who lives al¬ 
most on the boundary line of Ohio and West 
Virginia. It occurs to me that it merits 
publication: 

Another winter has passed without serious dam¬ 
age to our quail. They are more plentiful to-day in 
West Virginia, Kentucky and Ohio than for many 
years. This is not hearsay, but from actual experi¬ 
ence. In the state of Old Kentucky, in Carter 
County, during last November and part of De- 


i6o BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


cember, I saw more quail than you would really be¬ 
lieve existed in one locality—fine, fully matured birds 
and large coveys. In the vicinity of Huntington, 
West Virginia, quail were very plentiful at the close 
of the last season. Why should there be a perpetual 
closed season on quail in Ohio? There are more 
quail in Kentucky than in Ohio, and this in the face 
of the fact that Kentucky has always had long open 
seasons with no bag limit until recently. 

A short open season, with reasonable bag limit, 
will never exterminate “Bob White,” but rather pro¬ 
long his existence, because then the true sportsman 
is ever ready with his cash, time or influence to help 
legislation as needed, and to replenish depleted 
covers whenever necessary. Years ago, before the 
ban was placed upon exporting quail for propagation 
from one state to another, certain members of the 
old Wheeling Gun Club, each year about March i st, 
purchased dozens of pairs of those big, strong Kan¬ 
sas quail and liberated them in the vicinity of our 
fall and winter hunting grounds; and even at this 
late day, those localities where the imported birds 
were planted, still show signs of the wisdom of 
mixing 'em up. 

The wary grouse is fast disappearing as the ax 
of the woodsman plays havoc with his natural haunts, 
but while he is on the way out, more quail are on 
the way in, as grain fields, old pastures and brushy 


“SONG BIRDS” 


161 


thickets furnish them with ample protection, as well 
as a living. If ever our Northern or Eastern quail 
become too scarce to permit a short open season, 
then appeal to legislation and the sportsmen and 
others of the Southern states will respond to a man 
and furnish quail from their abundance for replen¬ 
ishing our depleted covers. You have to shoot with 
the boys of the South before you really know what 
real sport is; and one must live in their homes be¬ 
fore he can fully realize the meaning of true hos¬ 
pitality. 

Having hunted and traveled through the Caro- 
linas, Georgia and Florida for years, I know whereof 
I speak. In conclusion, will say that where there 
are hundreds of quail in the North and East, there 
are thousands of quail in the South. You cannot 
change the leopard’s spots, neither can quail be 
changed to song birds, except in name. 

I can merely add, myself, in conclusion, 
that we have as many quail as there are in 
Ohio to-day—not because of the present 
song-bird law—but because of the several 
recent mild winters. We would to-day 
have even more than we have—and a great 
number of coveys of bigger, better birds—if 
we might have had a short open season with 
all the benefits for the birds themselves that 


162 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


such a condition would imply as a result of 
the cooperation of sportsmen and their or¬ 
ganizations. 

I have dwelt at such length on this Ohio 
situation because I believe it affects us all 
either directly or indirectly, no matter where 
we live—and, even though I am myself a 
Buckeye born and bred, this is one example 
of my native state that I hope no other state 
will follow. 

This chapter had been completed to this 
point when the American Field of March 31, 
1923, arrived with its excellent article en¬ 
titled “Hoodlums and Chinch Bugs.” It has 
such a pointed bearing on this subject, and 
its viewpoint and presentation are so splen¬ 
did, that permission to reprint the article 
was sought immediately. Thanks to the 
courtesy of the publishers it is reprinted 
herewith and should have an appeal to 
farmers everywhere as well as to all real 
sportsmen. 

It is not the chinch bug that is bothering those 
farmers who want the quail put on the song-bird list. 


“SONG BIRDS” 


163 

It is the hoodlums who tramp over their fields with¬ 
out showing proper respect for the owner’s rights. 
Some fanatical bird fanciers tell the farmer that 
the quail is such a wonderful bug eater that it 
should be permanently protected against the sports¬ 
man’s gun. The farmer likes to believe this, for if 
it is true 7 then he can get rid of the bugs and the 
hoodlums by taking away from the shooters the 
incentive to go on his land for birds. 

The farmer can make for himself an asset out 
of the quail on his farm and get rid of the hood¬ 
lums at the same time. But we must first convince 
him that quail will not multiply by the mere process 
of protection. 

The honest naturalist and almost any sportsman 
can demonstrate the fact that the number of ob¬ 
noxious bugs and weeds that the quail eats is a 
negligible quantity that has no perceptible effect on 
future crop of either. Quail like good grain food, 
although they will eat a little weed seed and pick up 
an occasional bug. 

Instead of being deceived about the quail’s value 
as a bug eater, let the farmer rather make of this 
bird an asset, by paying a little attention to his 
propagation and protection. Then he will have more 
birds on his farm to eat bugs and weed seed, and 
will have something that will bring him a little rev¬ 
enue. He will have a shooting privilege for sale. 


164 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 

It is true that the shooting privilege on a three- 
hundred-acre tract is not worth a big sum of money, 
but in these days, when the man of the soil must 
scratch and dig everywhere in order to make both 
ends meet, any income from the farm, however 
small, is worth while looking after. 

In some sections of the South, where quail are 
plentiful, land rents to shooters at about ten cents an 
acre for the shooting season. As this is very short— 
about one month in some states—the land owner 
with a three-hundred-acre tract gets thirty dollars a 
month for allowing sportsmen to tramp over his 
ground. In point of fact, the land owner is better 
off where the shooting privilege is in the hands of 
some known person than he would be if any one so 
disposed would hunt on his grounds. Instead of 
warning off the crowd by putting up trespass signs 
and chasing people off his grounds who would ignore 
his signs, this disagreeable job is put on the man 
who rents the ground. If he wants some one to 
keep off trespassers during the shooting season he 
must pay for the service. 

Farmers who forbid shooting on their lands do 
not like to interfere with the neighborhood boys if 
they happen to hunt on their land, nor do they feel 
like objecting if these boys bring with them a few 
harum-scarum chaps from town. When he has 
rented the ground he can tell his friends with good 


“SONG BIRDS” 


165 

grace that he has sold the shooting privilege and is 
obligated not to give it away to another. That pre¬ 
serves good neighborly feeling and relieves the land 
owner of a disagreeable job. 

Farmers as a rule do not object seriously to well- 
disposed sportsmen hunting on their land. It is the 
hoodlum, who leaves gates open, frightens stock and 
breaks fences, that is the objectionable visitor. And 
these people are, as a rule, unknown to the farmer. 
When he is dealing with one man who is disposed to 
observe the farmer’s rules in his own interest there 
is little danger of any damage being done. If by 
chance the sportsman renter should do any damage 
he would feel himself obligated to report and pay for 
it. In fact, the farmer would be better off to give 
away the shooting privilege of his farm than he 
would be to go to the expense and trouble of try¬ 
ing to keep all hunters off. 

While the going rental of shooting privileges is 
small, this does not mean that they will remain at a 
present fixed price. The shooting privilege may be 
improved and increased in value. This increased 
value almost any sportsman would be glad to pay. 
What the man who is fond of shooting wants is a 
place where he can go and kill game without being 
regarded as a trespasser likely to be chased away 
by an irate land owner. He is willing to pay for a 
hunting privilege, and the better it is the more he 


166 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 


will pay for it. When the farmer learns how to 
improve his shooting preserve he will find it to his 
interest to make such necessary improvements as 
will insure him an increased revenue. 

In Europe the general public does not invade the 
farmer's lands with dog and gun. The European 
farmer has learned the way of keeping the crowd off 
and getting money from some one who is willing to 
pay for the privilege of shooting on his land. He 
has also learned that game can be made to multiply, 
just as it is possible to increase the chicken flock. 
It was not always so. Prior to 1830 shooting was 
generally open to all. But at that time the owner of 
a large moor in Scotland conceived the idea that 
shooting on this tract of land was worth something, 
and he rented it. 

Game birds like quail thrive and multiply fast 
under cultivation. It is with them just as it is with 
cattle or sheep. A given number will do well on a 
given tract of land. Suitable food, shelter, and 
water are what determine the number that will thrive. 
In a state of nature we may expect a given tract of 
land to support a certain number of quail. With a 
little artificial assistance this number may be easily 
doubled. Quail do not need much help, but they 
respond readily to such little as they need, if it is 
provided. During the cold winter months, when the 
ground is covered with snow in our northern states, 


“SONG BIRDS” 


167 

quail have to work hard and travel far enough for 
food to keep them alive. A little assistance at such 
times saves the lives of many birds and serves to 
keep them from wandering away from the particular 
territory which they have come to regard as home. 
To supply this food is not a very serious task. A 
little cracked corn, buckwheat, barley and wheat scat¬ 
tered about the thickets they frequent is about all 
that is necessary, except that it is well to mix a little 
meat scrap with the ration and to provide a little 
sand in sheltered places. 

If the farmer and his adjoining neighbors living 
in a section of the country suitable for quail will take 
a little pains to do the things necessary for his wel¬ 
fare, they will be surprised to learn how quickly 
these birds can be made to multiply under proper 
treatment. They will be surprised also to find 
sportsmen anxious to pay for the privilege of shoot¬ 
ing these birds in the open season. 

(1) 


THE END 




BOOKS FOR THE DOG LOVER 


THE COMPLETE DOG BOOK. 

By Dr. William A. Bruette. 

The history, characteristics and peculiarities, care, 
breaking and breeding of ninety-two varieties, including 
all the breeds popular in America. Illus. $ 3 . 00 . 

YOUR DOG AND YOUR CAT. How to Care for 
Them. 

By Roy H. Spaulding , D. V. M. 

Clears up the owner’s problems by going thoroughly 
and practically into the care of animals, with special 
reference to the conditions in which pets are commonly 
kept. $ 1 . 50 . 

BREAKING A BIRD DOG. A Treatise on Training. 
By Horace Lytle. 

Full and practical guidance set forth in a detailed 
account of the author s actual experience in training a 
puppy, who made all the usual trouble, into a fine bird 
dog. Illus. $ 2 . 00 . 

DUMB-BELL OF BROOKFIELD. 

By John Taintor Foote. 

How the unpromising son of an old champion unex¬ 
pectedly made good. One of the very greatest of dog 
stories. Frontispiece. $ 2 . 00 . 

POCONO SHOT. A Dog Story. 

By John Taintor Foote. 

Drama and tragedy mark the gripping and appealing 
story of the best bird dog in the Pocono hills and his 
owner. $ 1 . 25 . 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


New York 


London 




BOOKS for the OUTDOORS MAN 


THE OUTDOORSMAN’S HANDBOOK. 

By Hy. L. Watson and Capt. Paul A. Curtis, Jr. 

A comprehensive book of useful facts on outing equip¬ 
ment and methods in the out-of-doors. Illus. $150. 


TRAIL CRAFT. 

By Dr. Claude P. Fordyce. 

Practical information on the points that make a suc¬ 
cessful vacation in the open. Illus. $2 50. 


AUTOCAMPING. 

By F. E. Brimmer. 

Full information and expert counsel on an increasingly 
popular form of outing. Illus. $2.00. 


OUT OF DOORS. 

By Emerson Hough. 

The practical advice of a real sportsman on how to 
enjoy an out-of-doors vacation. $2.00. 


LET US GO AFIELD. 

By Emerson Hough. 

Hints on hunting, fishing and camping, and talk on 
many subjects dear to sportsmen. $2.00. 


THE SPORTSMAN’S WORKSHOP. 

By Warren H. Miller. 

Practical information on making and repairing a sports¬ 
man’s equipment. $1.25. 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
New York London 



BOOKS FOR THE HUNTER 


JIST HUNTIN’. 

By Ozark Ripley. 

Tales of forest and field, delightfully told by an expert 
guide. Illus. $2.00. 

LET US GO AFIELD. 

By Emerson Hough 

Hints to campers and hunters, with much discussion 
of game fields and of American game. $2.00. 


IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS. 

By J. A. McGuire. 

Thrilling narrative of a successful expedition for speci¬ 
mens in the far north. Illus. $2.50. 


CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON. 

By Harry A. Auer. 

A spirited diary of a hunting trip in the mountainous 
wilds of the Yukon. Illus. $3.00. 


SPORTING RIFLES AND RIFLE SHOOTING. 

By John Caswell. 

A range expert and big game hunter comprehensively 
and practically discusses the sportsman’s weapon. Illus. 
$4.00. 

INDIVIDUAL INSTRUCTION IN RIFLE PRACTICE. 
By Col. A. J. MacNab. 

The science and art of handling the rifle. Illus. $0.75 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
New York 


London 






Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Dec. 2012 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Parfc Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724) 779-2111 





















LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


0 002 837 112 3 

































































































































